


How Soon Is Now?

by emoprincessmimi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Charmed - Freeform, Charmed References, Drug Abuse, F/F, Hunters, Love Triangle, M/M, Magic, MxM - Freeform, Nemeton, Physical Abuse, Porn, References to Teen Wolf (TV), Scallison, Scisaac - Freeform, Sexual Abuse, Smut, Supernatural - Freeform, Witch Isaac Lahey, Witch Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Witch Stiles Stilinski, Witches, powers, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2019-10-19 23:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17611484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emoprincessmimi/pseuds/emoprincessmimi
Summary: With a few spellbinding words, Isaac, Scott, and Stiles lives will never be the same. The three teenage boys had unlocked their ancestor's powers, granting them powers, unlike anyone, has seen before.That incantation has awakened the Nemeton, a tree that houses fallen witches and magical creatures alike, storing their powers within its roots. The Nemeton shrouds itself from the forces of evil by hibernating. The burst of power from the boys has awakened the elder tree, creating a beacon for others to converge and seek its power.With forces of evil yearning for The Nemeton's powers, The trio is now forced to protect The Nemeton and stop creatures from consuming it's power.





	1. Chapter 1

“Okay you little birdbrains we have a game tomorrow. I need you on your A-game-” The coach drawled on.

  
The locker room was packed with the lacrosse team from morning practice. The team was barely listening to the coach’s banter. Stiles groaned as he buried his head into the red locker. The heavy pads weighed his shoulders down as he tried to tune out the coaches shouting. The lacrosse team were in varying stages of undressing and getting ready for class. The red lockers were in neat rows with benches for the boys to get their shoes on. Behind a row of lockers, in the far back, was the showers. Beige tiles with a small curtain separating the boys in their own individual stalls. Scott clutched the towel, around his waist, waddling out of the showers towards his locker. Scott listened in eagerly, nudging Stiles trying to pull him from his stupor. Scott loved the hype the coach brought to the team. Despite it meant in a lashing from each and every one of them.

  
          “Stiles wake up, coach will chew you out,” Scott whispered. Stiles grunted as he waved his arm out at Scott lightly smacking his wet chest.

  
Stiles brows furrowed, keeping his head burrowed into locker. He was determined to force himself to sleep. “Why are you naked?” He grunted feeling Scott’s chest, quickly twisting his nipple. Scott grunted shuffling away from Stiles assault.

  
“Dude stop being weird,” Scott grumbled slipping his jeans on, “Get dressed you’re going to be late for class.”

  
The coach was dragging on about what the boys needed to do for the rest of the day. Stiles sluggishly pulled off his padding trying not to throw himself onto the floor in exhaustion. The burly man had this boyish charm from the 1980’s.He had spiked dark brown hair, the gel made his hair sharp as a needle. Coach eyes were always scrunched up trying to undermine and scare the wits out of the boys, but they were hardly menacing outside school. The problem with the coach is how he tried to relate to the teens he watched over. The man was in his late forties but he swore up and down he was younger. The laugh lines fooled no one. A whistle hung from his neck, coated in a dull red paint matching the school’s color. There was a running joke that the coach never took it off, and then at least one person, would bring it up that he would wear it during sex. It lead down a slippery slope that ended up them imagining the coach in bed, it made them quiet.

  
By all accounts, he was good at what he did. For one, he never let Stiles play. That was a blessing in of itself. Though Stiles wanted to play, on occasion, his heart wasn’t in it. Stiles lanky body, the same body since middle school, was all the coach needed to see to keep him from playing. The coach produced wins, and that made the team as big as any football team across the states. “-I want to win, you hear me win! Except you Greenberg I want you not to suck can you do that for me? You guys can go. For the love of god Greenberg!”

  
Scott and Stiles took it as their cue to run out before the coach turned his ire on them. Scott slung his book bag over his shoulder. The halls were slowly filling up for the start of another day. They pushed through the halls to their lockers that were filled with untouched textbooks. While Stiles skirted by with some untapped knowledge; Scott struggled to grasp anything he learned.

 

“Today is going to be my day” Stiles stated staring into the locker.

  
“Stiles no-I just- she’s not going to notice you,” Scott pleaded casting a cursory glance down the hall where Lydia was chatting with her friends.

  
“She has! Like when she needed my notes that one class, and then there was the lunch incident. Then in 8th grade where she asked to use my pencil. She knows me! I’m on the team and and-”

  
“-and you are not her boyfriend Jackson.” Scott pointed out. Stiles gave an indigent hmph shutting his locker.

  
“I could be him,” Stiles rubbed the gunk out of his eyes resting against the lockers, “You still coming over tonight?”

  
The whole conversation made Scott on edge. He hated being the voice of reason when it came to Stiles infatuation for Lydia. He kept cutting him down, but Stiles had a mental block when it came to her. Lydia rose and set with the sun, nothing was wrong with her. When she played Gossip Girl in middle school and wrote a post trashing Stiles. Then there was her boyfriend who bullied Stiles, and she continually ignored it. Scott was trying to save Stiles from the, eventual, realization that she was out of his league. The hierarchy of school had spoken and ruled Stiles above the band geeks but way below the sports jocks.  
“Yeah I wouldn’t miss it,” Scott grinned nudging Stiles, “Need good luck for tomorrow.”

  
“Aw, Scotty you’ll be fine! They would be an idiot to not notice you…” Stiles voice trailed off as he noticed someone through the sea of people.

  
Scott combed his fingers through his hair, “They won’t, unless I do anything short of a miracle. Jackson will get the spotlight. I need to outshine him, Stiles. I have nothing else.” There was nothing he could do, his grades and skills could never match Jackson. Stiles eyes were blank looking over Scott’s shoulder following someone. “What are you even looking at?” Scott demanded.

  
Stiles aimlessly patted at Scott’s chest in an attempt to silence him. “Do you know that guy?” Stiles asked quietly twisting Scott around to face the sea of people. Everyone was moving every which way, no one stood out to him. Scott squinted as he moved closer as if anyone was supposed to stand out to him like someone in a banana suit. Stiles was smacking Scott’s back unsure what to do with hands. Stiles was amazed Scott didn’t notice him.

  
Before Stiles could get another word out in edgewise Coach peered his head around the corner spotting the two boys. “McCall! A word?” With a flick of his sausage fingers. Stiles winced pulled from his stupor. Stiles knew he was a dead man walking. Scott scurried over to the coach maneuvering through the crowd knocking into a few students. “My god McCall you need to learn how to move quicker than that,” The coach pinched out.

  
Coach Finstock swung his arm around Scott leading him back towards the locker room and his office. “Now I want to ask you, how are you feeling?” The voice was sincere. Unlike his normal rough sarcastic demeanor that usually left Scott bereft of words. As soon as they stepped into the locker room Scott could smell the dank stench of sweat and cologne. Scott could feel the steam radiate off the walls, wetting the back of his neck.

  
“Uhhh good….coach. How are you?” Scott asked craning his neck to look up at the male.

  
“Good good, come inside take a seat,” The coach urged herding the confused teen into his office. Finstock shut the door behind them and locked it for good measure. Scott parted his lips, this was a first. He slowly sank into his seat, ready to bolt if need be. Half wondering what kind of trap the coach laid out for him. The smile coach wore slipped off once they were cloaked in a veil of secrecy. Coach sighed as he plopped down into his seat. “McCall how the hell did you get into high school?” Coach asked accusingly as he flipped a manila folder open.

  
Scott could see his school photo glued to the upper right corner. “Uhh-” He darted his eyes to meet Coach’s. He was focusing his attention to another part of the folder. Scott could make out his address and medical records. “Is that my personal record? Isn’t that illegal?”

  
“Do you think I care what’s illegal? When one of my team members in jeopardy of failing and being kicked off the team. This is profoundly annoying me.” Scott sunk in his seat only catching on to what Finstock said. Scott tilted his head, he raised his finger to say something, but the coach’s venom stopped him.

  
“Kicked off the team?” Scott questioned.

  
“Yes! Yes McCall, do I need to tell it to you twice?!” Coach roared shutting the folder and tucking it into his desk. “Tomorrow starts the scouting season, and besides a few other schmucks on my god forsaken team you have a shot. Maybe not the shot like Jackson, but it’s something. I know a few that are potentially interested in you. So what’s the deal?”

  
Scott didn’t even know about the scouts interested in him. Everyone on the team hid behind the elite shadows. Scott was lucky he could make a Hail Mary toss to one of the runners and they get the winning goal. That was the least of making it so scouts notice him. Yet, he had a real shot. A shot out of Beacon Hills, able to become something more than Scott McCall. He would be The Scott McCall, or at least it could get him through veterinary school.

  
“I don’t know, coach. I-I can’t seem to focus and practice takes a lot out of me,” Scott admitted.

  
Coach stayed silent for a moment. It was like he was trying to see past the charade. It only took him a few more seconds to realize Scott wasn’t lying. He was really that stupid. “Have you thought of help?”

  
“I’ve tried tutoring from students and teachers, it isn’t helping,” Scott explained, “I don’t know what else is there for me to do. Can’t I take remedial courses and just get through the year?”

  
Scott had considered bribing the teachers. If it was only that easy, but he couldn’t even think of a time to ask any of them. Plus the only time he was remotely charismatic was when he helped an elderly lady for community service. Scott left the schmoozing to the coach. Finstock fully believed his team was god’s gift, and they needed to be praised as such.

  
“You think I have magical powers McCall? All I got is you and a load of F’s on my plate. Now have you thought of medical help?” Coach suggested.

  
“What do you mean like have a doctor diagnose me with a learning disability?” He questioned with a quirk of his head.  
“That or special vitamins. I know you lot have some tools to help out on tough assignments,” Coach pushed forward.

  
Scott’s brows furrowed, he smoothed his hands down his jeans. If it was another test, Scott was failing miserably. Even at the expense of saving his college career he was failing. “Vitamins, like drugs?” Scott asked.

  
Coach held his hands up stopping them from saying anything else. “I didn’t suggest that but if you were to find someway to focus and do the work and pass, you could participate.” He stated with a twinge of a smile. A sly one that showed half of his teeth.

  
“Like Adderall?” Scott assumed. It was the first thing that came to Scott’s mind. The coach said nothing but gave a wink. Finstock opened the door for Scott, their meeting was concluded. Scott wasn’t sure if he said the right thing or not.  
“Have a good day Scott,” Coach nudged him out of the office. Scott was stuck trying to make sense of the whole thing.  
Did that really happen? Scott questioned as he made his way out into the main hall. The halls were cleared with everyone in their assigned rooms. Scott wished Stiles was hanging around to tell him what happened. Scott clutched his bag tighter, everything that happened was on a constant loop. Each playback distorted the scenario little by little until Scott wasn’t sure what had happened. There was no way that the coach would suggest drugs. If he did anything that was remotely illegal it would ruin Scott, but yet it was an option. It was the one thing Scott didn’t try. There were tons of stories of how certain drugs helped students out. People were able to complete ten page papers overnight. Scott settled down into his first period class still going over it in his head. While he was staring at the textbook, he made up his mind. He wasn’t doing it. He could do it, but he won’t do it.  
_________

Stiles twiddled with his pencil digging deep grooves into the wood with his pen. He was determined to make art to drone out his teachers’ lecture. If the teacher could ignore him for a whole period Stiles was golden, but he severely doubted it. Mr.Brown head leaned against his desk crossing his arms against his chest watching his class like a hawk. After Stiles made a sly remark about the teacher looking like Klingon with his weird eyebrows and huge forehead. The teacher has been out to get him, but it wasn’t like Stiles deserved it. He was just speaking the truth. Stiles had almost fell out of his seat when the door knocked against the wall and the boy walked into the classroom. It was the guy from the hallway, Stiles had nearly forgotten about the guy, but it came flooding back to him. The boy was someone to Stiles, an old friend or a relative, but he walked like the world cursed him. The boy scowl was deep set, unwavering, and his shoulders hunched over trying to make himself small. It was the gaze that freaked Stiles out the most, he didn’t look up from the floor but he scorned it with every step. The teacher talked to the new guy before motioning him to sit down.

  
Everyone was holding their breath waiting for the teacher to introduce the newcomer. Instead, the guy went to the first open seat and the teacher was ready to start his lesson. The first seat open was next to Stiles, as he tossed his bag onto the floor.  
Stiles leaned over the metal bar that connected the desk to the seat, he wasn’t letting the gloom stop him from meeting the boy. “Hey I’m Stiles,” He held his hand out, but the boy was quiet. The boy pulled his notebook out not even acknowledging Stiles presence.

  
With a sidelong glance, Stiles scooted in closer to the guy. Maybe he didn’t hear him, Stiles figured as he cleared his voice. “Hey I’m Stiles, what’s your name?” He tried again. The guy glared at Stiles before turning back to his notebook. Stiles shifted back in his seat crossing his arms against his chest. “What an asshole,” Stiles muttered to himself picking up his pencil and pen. Ready to continue his masterpiece that would end up at the waste side by the end of the day. He was only being nice trying to get the guy settled. That’s what every new student needed, a friend, but he wasn’t good enough. Stiles gritted his teeth, flicking the pen against the wood, pressing it deeper into the pliable material. The least the guy could do was have common courtesy.

  
Stiles looked over the boy who was writing in his book. The handwriting was terribly, but everything the teacher was talking about was written down. The guy was hanging off the teacher’s every word while closing in on himself, he didn’t dare lean out of the bubble his desk put him. Stiles tried to think back to when he was in a situation when he was on edge. Anyone who tried to talk to him ended up getting under his skin and had him throwing a tantrum. Stiles sighed, he wasn’t being reasonable it wasn’t like the guy knew him, but Stiles wanted to know him. Stiles leaned back over trying a new approach, “Hey I blanked out, what did the teacher just say?”

  
This time the guy paused, Stiles was proud he was getting through to him. The guy didn’t look up from his notebook. If he didn’t stop writing, Stiles would have sworn he didn’t hear him. “Can you shut the fuck up?” The guy hissed out going back to his work. Stiles mouth was agape unsure if he heard the guy right. Was he really telling Stiles to shut up, it was an innocent question. Stiles was glad he had gotten a response. That was progress. Stiles went back to his pencil drawing, but it was still gnawing at him.

  
The guy was someone to him. Stiles thought back to all his estranged family, no one popped into his mind. Everyone was either on the east coast or in Russia. His dad side of the family was small and he knew each and every one of them. Stiles wished that he knew his mother side, but she left Russia when she was a young girl with her sister. Stiles remembered meeting his grandma, before she died. She was an odd one. She would do different things throughout the house and talked mostly in Russian. Stiles barely understood it, but the things he did hear went over his head. She had died when he was five years old right before Thanksgiving. The family members he remembered showing up were all from Russia. Each carrying a distinct accent, and the kids looked nothing like the boy.

  
There was always a possibility the boy was just someone Stiles saw in passing like when he hung out on the playground, or maybe saw him on TV. No one came to Beacon Hills, but who was to say they couldn’t show up at his school. Stiles kept looking at the boy as if his face would jog his memory. Yet it only left Stiles frustrated that he didn’t know him. “Hey do I know you?” Stiles whispered toward the guy. The boy grunted as he perched his head on his hand. A new barrier separating the two, but Stiles was just being nice. He was curious, and the guy had to know something. If Stiles couldn’t place him, the boy could. Maybe the boy was famous on the internet.

  
The rest of the class period was Stiles periodically asking the boy questions. Stiles was determined to know who he was. When the bell rung, the guy was quickly gathering his things. The questioning was wearing thin on Stiles, he wanted one answer. Yet, it was constant silence and murderous glares. Stiles was going to try again as he stuffed his notebook into his bag. “Did you move back into town? I think I remember you like we were friends when we were younger, ya know?”  
“No! Now shut the fuck up! For fuck sake I don’t want to talk to you or answer your goddamn questions. I don’t fucking know you! Why can’t you just take the fucking hint and leave me alone!” Isaac screamed nearly draped over his desk, digging his nails into the wood. Stiles was taken back staring at the boy.

  
Stiles brows furrowed, “Why can’t you answer my questions! I’m just trying to be nice! Don’t be such a- a cocksucker!”  
“What the fuck did you just call me, faggot?” The guy pushed the desk into Stiles’s desk. Stiles staggered back careful to not stumble into the row behind him. The guy lunged after Stiles slamming him down onto the ground. The desk scattered hissing and grabbing everyone’s attention.

  
The two wrestled, Stiles squirmed, serpentine on the floor trying to weasel his way out of being pinned. The kid pulled Stiles onto his back, punching Stiles. In a matter of seconds, hands were pulling the kid off of him. Stiles didn’t have a moment to think before It was over. Another pair of hands lifted Stiles from the floor as the students created a barrier between the two of them. The two squared off, panting heavily with eyes low. Neither was ready to back down and given the chance, Stiles would swing at the guy.

  
Stiles could feel the heat and sting from his jaw. He hadn’t realized the guy had socked him in the jaw, his fingertips brushed lightly at the bruise. Parts of the bruise was swollen and tender to the touch. With the boy seething without a mark on his face, everyone knew who won. It was deathly quiet inside the room, no one was leaving as the students passed the door. Everyone was worried that any movement would trigger a round two. But Stiles wanted the chance to get one punch in.  
God how he wanted to knock the boy on his feet, at least he would be equal. Quickly, Stiles lunged at the kid. His fingers managed to scrape along his neck pulling him in closer. Stiles tried to find purchase, yanking on the boy’s hair pulling it roughly. The students pried apart Stiles fingers pushing them onto the opposite side of the room. More space was placed between them, as two guys stand guard. Their bodies blocking Stiles view from the boy.

  
“We’re here for Stiles Stilinski and Isaac Lahey,” One of the security guards entered the room, followed by another. Stiles hadn’t noticed that someone had called for help as a guard seized the two of them, hauling them out of the room.


	2. Chapter 2

“I can’t believe this!” Stiles exclaimed tossing his hands up in distress. Stiles ran his fingers through his dark locks tugging at the strands. He had just gotten out of the principal’s office and into lunch. The cafeteria was talking with a new buzz of the fight that broke out with the new kid- Isaac. Everyone seemed to have a new rumor associated with the fight, the biggest one being that Stiles started it. At first, Stiles tried to fix it, but he couldn’t tell everyone. No one would believe him that he was a victim. He didn’t do anything other than be nice. So he stayed quiet and let the rumors now paint him in a new light. 

It was mortifying. Stiles and Scott were a part of the elite clique of jocks but were so far removed that no one cared outside game days. Now there was a real reason to notice the duo. Everyone was eager to see what Stiles would do next. After all, he had started the fight, he had to be itching for a round two. It made it uncomfortable as  the two settled into their usual seats. 

Scott had to try his hardest to not stare at Stiles’s bruise. The thing looked gnarly and it made Scott’s toes curled. Scott rubbed at his own jaw, stopping himself from pointing out the pain Stiles might have been feeling.  Scott wished he was there, during the fight, he could’ve done something. He had no idea what, but he wished he was there for his friend. They have been through everything together since they met on the sandbox. They had even planned dual parties since their birthday fell on the same day, Halloween. 

“I can kind of… you did ask the guy a ton of questions,” Scott pointed out chewing on the small sandwich he got from the cafeteria. 

“It’s because I know him!” Stiles exclaimed lifting his head from his hands in exasperation. The boy squirmed in his seat shrugging his shoulders. “Now I have to have a month detention with the guy. Every day I have to have class and detention.” 

“Well now you’ll get to know him, isn’t that what you wanted?” Scott quirked his head to the side. 

“I don’t want to know him now! He ruined my chance for Lydia to notice me,” He wailed sinking low in his seat. Scott raised a brow contemplating if he should correct his friend, but decided against the melodramatic tantrum that would ensue. 

“So who’s the guy?” Scott asked taking another bite of his sandwich. Beacon Hills was a small town, Scott knew everyone in their grade year. The town had a lot of migrant workers, people moving in and out. But no one really moved into Beacon Hills to settle down. It was always a single male who lived in the more urban part of town. Regardless, there was a sense of community within the students of Beacon Hills. 

Stiles looked around the cafeteria scanning for the guy. Stiles pointed at the doorway that led into the kitchen where student got their hot lunch. “Him?” Scott squinted leaning in close watching the boy take a seat in the far corner. He was near the theater kids but towards the far corner. A clear divide between the two. Scott tilted his head, “He looks lonely. Maybe he just needs a friend.”

“....Your kidding right?” Stiles gawked at Scott, “I  _ tried  _ that! Literally tried and you know what he said? Shut the fuck up! He doesn’t need friends he needs lobotomy. Maybe then, maybe then, he can have friends.” 

Scott rolled his eyes, everyone needed a friend. Even if the guy was a jerk, but that could have just been a sign that he was scared. Scott could only imagine what it was like to be the new kid, especially in high school. No one wanted to make new friends and then to have fought with someone on their first day, everyone would steer clear of him. 

If Scott hadn’t made it onto the team, he would’ve been in Isaac’s same position. He would end up like Isaac if he didn’t pull his grades up. His gaze landed on the group of the burnouts. The world had became their playground once that group got their hands on drugs. Every year, new people were drawn in until they became hollow shells of themselves. Their eyes were glassy as they continued to drift through school. He couldn’t be like them, teetering on the edge of surreal insanity. One of the kids had their head craned up at the ceiling, in awe of something that continued to move through the light fixtures. 

Out of all of them, Scott knew Luke. He was the more coherent of the group, but also their dealer. Everyone knew he was the one supplying the group. He was always carrying a black duffle bag. Despite the fact that Scott had never seen him workout, he outwardly claimed it was his gym clothes. Luke was thin with barely any definition to his muscles, and did anything in gym. Scott couldn’t fathom how anyone believed his story. The people who stuck by Luke were slaves to whatever they gave him. Scott nibbled on his bottom lip, he didn’t want to become like that. 

The rest of lunch was spent with Stiles huffing about Isaac Lahey. It was always Isaac Lahey to Stiles, as if the guy had two names rather than one. Stiles swore he would’ve given him a piece of his mind, but they both knew he wouldn’t. The only strength Stiles had was a game of wits, he could outwit anyone if he really tried. Through crazy theories and running circles around the person with his fast jumbled speech.  The whole conversation had Scott staring at the boy more than he would have liked. Just as Stiles needed to get to know the boy, so did Scott. He felt bad, the boy looked like a kicked puppy eating alone. 

Once Stiles left to go to his next class, Scott lingered around for Isaac. He clutched his backpack playing with the seams along the straps. Isaac was one of the last people out of the cafeteria, skulking through the halls on his way to his next class. Scott slipped past a few people to catch up with the boy. “Hey I’m Scott,” Scott introduced himself.

“Don’t care,” Isaac gritted out trying to move through the crowd to put distance between him and Scott. He was quick on Isaac’s heels keeping up with him despite Isaac’s best attempts to shake him. 

“Well, I get that. A new school and stuff like that. But everyone needs a friend-” Isaac glared at the lad, “-or a person to talk to. Where are you from?” Scott pressed onward. 

Isaac did his best to ignore Scott as he tossed his morning books into his locker. It was becoming apparent that Scott wasn’t going to get through to him. He should get the hint and lick his wounds and walk away before he received actual wounds. 

Scott reached out touching Isaac’s arm, “I can’t imagine what you are feeling, but if you ever wanted to hang or talk I’m here as the not-friend person,” Scott swore Isaac was going to punch him in the face. Instead Isaac stayed quiet, barely moving, and the locker shut. Isaac’s lips pressed together in a firm line, staring down at Scott. Scott wasn’t sure if he should brace himself, or Isaac was trying to be sincere. Isaac’s arm was warm to the touch like electricity crackling through the fabric. 

“What’s your number?” Isaac asked, his voice was still tight but it was the first real thing he said that wasn’t leading up to a fight. It caught Scott off guard. 

“Uhhh…. Here I’ll put it in,” Scott offered finally letting go of Isaac arm. Scott quickly put his number into Isaac phone. The boy watched Scott intently, he watched Scott’s fingers glide over the keypad tapping away. Scott passed the phone back over, and with a quick swish of Isaac’s thumb, Scott’s phone buzzed. 

“Awesome, I’ll put it in later. We should hang out sometime. I can show you around. There’s a lot of nice places to eat, that no one knows about,” Scott earnestly said. He was beaming from ear to ear that Isaac was being receptive. He didn’t seem as intimidating like Stiles had told him. 

“When?” Isaac face was pinched, he looked like he was in pain. Scott couldn’t tell if it was physical pain or him just looking distraught. Isaac was already backing away, ready to turn on his heels to race down the hallway.

“How about tonight? My friend is having a sleepover, you can come with. It’ll be fun,” Scott didn’t realize what he had just offered. Stiles will be furious that Scott invited Isaac after everything. After taking one look at Isaac’s crestfallen demeanor, he wasn’t going to take it back. The boy just needed a good group of friends to lift his spirits. “Please? I think you would really like it. If not you can bail. We’re leaving after school it’ll be super cool.” 

_ Super cool? _ What was he even thinking. No one even said that anymore, he felt like a complete dork. Isaac snorted as he backed away down the hall looking at the different door numbers pressed against the wall adjacent to the classrooms. Scott huffed as he jogged to catch up with him. 

“Fine, after school right? Text me the details.” Isaac grunted pretending to be annoyed though Scott could see a little smile. Isaac made his way around the corner towards his next class. He left Scott with the biggest smile on his face.  

 

_________

 

The clock had finally ticked down. Stiles and Isaac were finally free from detention. For the past hour, they were stuck watching the teacher grade papers. Stiles sprung out of his seat the moment it ticked to freedom, making a mad dash for his Jeep. Stiles couldn’t make it to practice, but it didn’t matter. He was benched most of the time. Practice was going to be let out soon, and Stiles planned on using the few minutes to unwind from detention.  If looks could kill Isaac would have been dead by now. Instead, Isaac was unaware of Stiles leering at him. Isaac was smug the entire time. The way slouched in his seat with his arms crossed against his chest. Stiles couldn’t see what the boy was looking at, nor see his smile, but Stiles knew. He just knew it! 

Stiles peered through the rear view mirror at Scott making his way across the lawn towards his car. With a smug shadow following right behind him, Isaac was asking for a death wish. Stiles clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles were white, when Scott reached the car door swinging it open. “Uhhh Scott,  you have a certain person following you,” He nudged his head in Isaac direction. Scott looked over his shoulder at Isaac then back at Stiles. 

“Yeah I invited him to spend the night with us,” Scott jumped into the passenger seat with Isaac settling into the backseat. The two looked content despite Stiles ready to lose his mind. He wasn’t expecting he had to deal with the guy for a whole night. 

“Scott…” Stiles warned as he started to drive off. Scott gave him a hard look, before turning to look out the window once more. He wasn’t going to listen to Stiles. Isaac was just lonely, and he seemed rather nice once you break through the barrier. Stiles huffed as he played music loud to drown out any attempts of talking.  

The car screeched to a stop, reminding Stiles, he needed to visit the local mechanic, as he pulled into his driveway. They made their way into Stiles’s house. There were boxes stacked near the attic door on the second landing, staring at the trio expectantly. Isaac was pensive as he moved throughout the house, acting like Scott’s shadow. It left a bitter taste in Stiles mouth as he tossed his book-bag haphazardly into a corner of the livingroom. While Scott gave Isaac a tour of Stiles’s house, not like he hated the idea of Isaac in his space, Stiles walked into the kitchen. It was where his dad usually put any notes, sure enough one sat on the counter. 

Stiles,

I had to run but I need you take the boxes that I left out to the basement. I want to finally cover that draft in the attic. Money is underneath for pizza. Don’t do anything stupid. 

~Dad

 

Stiles heard the news playing in the living room, guess the tour was done. His father had the news always playing if sports weren’t on. Stiles peered into the living room where Scott was chatting animatedly about how he could kick some serious butt at Mario Kart, as if. Scott never won at Mario Kart, it was always Stiles, unless Scott cheated. Every time, Scott would use the bullet to burst out ahead and somehow Stiles controller would fly out of his hands at the last second, leaving him in last place. It didn’t bother Stiles much because when it came time for Capcom Vs Marvel that controller never magically flew out of his hands. 

The animated music played as Scott set up the game. Isaac was still quiet, barely cracking a smile. He was ungrateful, and possibly planning on how to make his night a serious hell. There was no point in bringing it up to Scott that Isaac was a problem. He had already sported his big puppy dog eyes, trying his best to make Isaac feel at home.  “Hey I’m putting in Mario Kart do you want to play?” Scott asked turning to look at Stiles.

Despite it being Stiles’s house Isaac actually scowled at him. Like he had a right to be pissed off. Stiles shook his head, pointing at the stairs. “In a bit. I have to bring some boxes to the basement. Give me a few minutes,”

The boxes were fairly light as Stiles brought them each to the basement. He was in no rush to join the two boys. It was like he didn’t even existed, Scott was ecstatic to have a new playmate, someone he could dote over. Rapid fire questions coming from Scott were actually being answered by Isaac. The guy actually had things to say, what a shocker, but where was that when Stiles tried to talk to him. Finally, he had one last box to bring down. The flaps on the underside was worn out collapsing on itself. Everything clattered to the floor, sprawling out in a whirlwind mess. 

Stiles crouched down trying to gather it all up. A lot of it was a bunch of dried up leaves and petals, they were rough to the touch and extremely delicate. Every time Stiles tried to grab a petal it would disintegrate between his fingertips. Stiles gave up trying to gather them up in his hands, and shoved it to the corner of the hallway. A few little crystals and stones fell as well, and he was able to grab them a lot easier. The biggest thing that dropped was a big leather bound book. 

Dust had settled into the cracks of the leather. It was a deep ivory green with an odd little emblem pressed into the book. The emblem had three skinny ovals overlapping with one another with a circle around the edges. The lines were all connected with thin red ink, dirtied by the dust which removed a lot of the pigment. The edges of the book were cracked and filled with dark brown color, possibly the original color of the book Carefully he cracked it open, dust went up in the air. It was all done in calligraphy with bold letter pressed into the yellow pages. Book of Shadows written with precise care. 

Stiles flipped casually through the book. Inside had variations of monsters, women with streaky white hair, another with red faced demon with thick black lines over his face. Each picture accompanied with scripture or rhymes. They were spells, all written in a different language and handwritings.  As he turned the page he could see the different variations as the book was edited by other people. Until he flipped towards the back of the book and it became more modern, the pages weren’t as yellow but were completely blank. Stiles weighed the book in his hands, heavy to touch, he wondered who it belonged to. Stiles couldn’t remember when they had this book lying around. Stiles grabbed the cardboard box flipping around to see Tatiana, his grandmother’s name, on the box.

The boys were still playing in the living room, but Stiles didn’t care it was the first time he had seen anything from his grandma’s stuff in a long time. He quickly bounded down the stairs trying to get the boys to pause their game. “Guys look! I found this book, it’s my grandma’s. I think it’s a spellbook!” Stiles exclaimed flipping through the pages trying show them.  “A spell book?” Scott’s brows furrowed taking the book into his lap. He started to go through the book. He couldn’t make sense of it, but he was able to see the different pictures. 

Isaac settled down beside Scott craning his head over his shoulder to look at it closer. “Your family is wiccan?” Isaac asked glancing up at Stiles. Scott was staring at one of the gnarlier pictures that depicted blood and death. It was a creature that looked like a werewolf. The thing was hairy with the body of a wolf and huge hands with claws. The wolf had craned its head up at the moon with blood dripping from its oversized fangs and down towards a half-painted woman. 

“We’re Catholic,” Stiles bit out ready to fight Isaac for making a comment. It wasn’t for him to even look at, he just happened to be there.

“Didn’t mean anything bad by it. I think it’s pretty cool. Hocus Pocus, Harry Potter, shit like that.” Isaac peered in closer running his thumb along the paper. The paper was invented by the pens that were used, but raised just slightly with the thick coat of paint it endured to create the different pictures. Some of the pages looked like it took weeks of meticulous artistry and calligraphy. 

“Did you know your grandma was into it?” Scott wondered tilting his head to the side. Stiles shook his head peering in to look at the pages he didn’t get a chance to closely look at. 

“I didn’t know much about her, she died when I was really little,” He stated. This was the first thing he had seen from his grandmother's things after she died. The minute she died it was all packed away into neat little boxes, never to be touched again. Just like his mom’s things, it was just easier for his dad to deal with.  “It looks pretty cool though.” Stiles admitted with a light chuckle. 

Isaac nodded his head scooting in closer to get a better look at the pages. “Do you think they work?” He questioned. Scott shrugged his shoulders. 

“Who knows,” Scott leaned back ready to resume playing the game. 

“We should try one,” Stiles spoke up. It sounded a lot more cooler in his head. Yet out loud he felt like he should be adorning a tinfoil hat, spells didn’t work. But he said it and he wasn’t going to back down. 

“I’d be down,” Isaac replied, “It doesn’t look like bullshit,” He grinned. Though his eyes were fixated on the worn out pages. Isaac reached out to take the book into his lap. The agreement was on deaf ears, Stiles was running with the idea.

“What if you summon some demon, I saw demons in that book Stiles. I don’t know if I want to meet Satan or be possessed. I’m comfortable playing Mario Kart, a game I’m amazing at I might add.” Scott grinned weakly. 

“You suck at the game. We’re so doing this,” Stiles was off racing into the next room to gather everything up. The young lad had no idea what he needed. But he was making his way into the basement flickering on the light. Dusty boxes and furniture littered the bottom floor. The basement was used as a makeshift loft, but after the spiders it was closed off. Stiles couldn’t sit still knowing something could potentially crawl on his head.

First thing was first, they needed space. A few boxes he lobbed near the center of the room had to be pushed to the back. The cold concrete helped him along to slide them into a corner near an old refrigerator from his parents old house. There were years of old junk in the basement. It was more of the recent things, things that pertained to their family. While the attic was for their ancestors. Something they had to carry around with them even though Stiles didn’t know who half of them were.

While Stiles was making room, Isaac was still looking through the book. It was massive, pages upon pages. It was overwhelming. It was the same feeling Isaac got when he tried to pick up a Harry Potter book. If he sat and read it, he would understand what it was talking about. But the sheer number of words that didn’t seem like English had him skimming. 

Scott decided if he had to go along with it he was finishing his game. Yoshi was whizzing around on the screen, but it didn’t matter. He was falling behind once again to twelfth place. “Do you think that stuff is real?” Scott wondered out loud when Isaac head never came up from the book. 

Isaac gave a shrug of his shoulders, “I- kinda? I think the religion is a real thing, but can someone magically put a rabbit out of a hat- doubtful,” He mumbled, “Stiles grandmother really believed in it though. There are tons of weird shit in it. Like a thing called a Grimlock. I think it makes a child blind, or something.” Isaac squinted trying to make sense of the language. It looked archaic with different letters that were definitely written in Russian. Isaac looked up in time to catch the tail end of Scott pulling into the finish line at eleventh place. “He was right, you suck at this game,” Isaac stated. 

“I don’t suck! I was listening to your demon talk,” Scott tossed the controller to his side. He craned his head to look at the books contents. “I think anything that dabbles with demons isn’t a good thing,” Scott pointed out with a chew of his inner lip. 

“Wicca doesn’t mess with demons, and the whole thing is more complex than that,” Isaac explained, “Are you religious?” 

“No not really, mom has a cross in her purse but that’s the extent of it. I think I was baptized and yeah- but that doesn’t mean anything. The book looks like it has every evil thing from A-Z, and a few that start with a number. I don’t trust things like that. Like Evil Dead, they touched the evil freakin’ book and released a demon. That book had things about demons in it.”  Scott exclaimed. 

“A demonology book has demons in it and it isn’t evil. Doesn’t the Bible talk about demons too? Just because it has demons in it, doesn’t make it evil,” Isaac wagered.

“Yeah but none of them have a how-to guide to summon something-” Scott was cut off by Stiles rushing up the steps. A few cobwebs clung to the edge of his hair and shirt. He rocked on the balls of his  feet, bouncing in place. 

“C’mon! Let’s do this!” Stiles grinned taking the book from Isaac’s hands. He flipped through the pages.  Both boys realized that this was The Stiles Show and anyone who objected would be persecuted. Which usually meant, Stiles wouldn’t stop talking. “I was thinking we can do the first spell in the book. It’s the only one in actual English.”

Stiles led them into the basement. Everything was shoved to different corners of the room leaving a huge gap in the middle. The basement light shined bright casting away the shadows that lurked into the far corners. Decades upon decades of junk accumulated down in the basement. No one bothered trying to pick it apart, they were content to let it linger there forever. 

Carefully Stiles placed the book in the middle of the floor opening it to the first page. The pages threaten to spill over to displace the weight properly. Stiles moved the boys into place just like how the book wanted them to stand. They were all standing around the book, each one was a direct point where an invisible line could be made through them, a triangular pattern. The house creaked warningly, as it settled into the foundation. 

Scott’s eyes drifted from the boys to the old book. The places the shadows did touch felt like it came alive. Silently urging them to take that step into the great unknown, it was terrifying. Scott wasn’t religious, he swore he wasn’t, but his mind kept referencing parts of a prayer. The foreboding sense of dread left Scott frozen, chilled him to the bone. He didn’t want to be there, he wanted to play video games and eat pizza. Scott was ready to say forget it but Stiles was already starting. 

Stiles cleared his throat as he grinned at the two of them, not caring that Isaac was his enemy. He was a part of this, and for a moment he could make amends just to play it out. “Okay, okay, okay...Okay,” Stiles grinned, “So we just take each others hands and repeated the spell.” Stiles outstretched his hand to each of the boys. They were hesitant not taking each others hands. Isaac was the first one to take Stiles hand, quietly urging Scott to take his as well. Scott’s fisted his hand, yanking it back behind his back. Scott couldn’t do this, he couldn’t go through with this. 

“Trust me, it’s all bullshit. But it's cool to pretend, yeah? I promise you won’t meet the devil,” Isaac smile was secretive as if it was only meant for Scott. He extended his hand out further for Scott to take. Scott sucked in a deep breath staring at the hand. 

“You better be right,” He mumbled to Isaac, clasping their hands together. 

Stiles smiled grasping their hands tighter as he leaned over to read the words properly. The boys followed the first verse shakily. Each stumbling over their words in attempt to catch up to the rhythm. It was soft but the draft drifted in. A cool current dancing along their skin. It played with the hems of their shirt. It was quiet, encouraging them forward. They tried to get themselves together. A second time too much for Scott’s liking. Finally, they pieced it together knowing the bounce of their own vocal beat. 

One last time, is what Stiles told them. “ Hear now the words of the witches,” They spoke in tandem. Their voices hummed in harmony. The playful wind picked up speed tugging at the threads and running its fingers through their hair. 

“The secrets we hid in the night, The oldest of gods are invoked here,” The lights glowed brighter, blue tinge as it casted over the three. A deep rumble erupted through the house. It creaked unmercilessly, warning them to stop. Low howls worked it way disguising its voice with one of the house. “The great work of magic is sought...In this night and in this hour, We call upon the ancient power.”

The veils of the world became thin as everything seemed to ignite with a new found power. “We want it us three, give us the power, we want the power.” 

The boys were silent, listening to the world that seemed to be as quiet as them. Everything was waiting on them and they did the same back. As they tried to get a foothold on what was happening, if anything was happening. Stiles had expected balls of light, flashes of different colors circling them, or maybe nothing. There was nothing mystical about the world because witches and demons don’t exist.The three stared at each other trying to gauge what to do.

With bated breath they disconnected their hands staring at the book, hoping it would give them some guidance. They were relying on a man-made object with nothing magical about it other than the imaginative words that were inside. “This sucks,” Stiles stated finally shaking his head. Stiles took a step back breaking the circle, and a whoosh of power surged through the air, pushing them backwards. The air screeched at them as they fell into the boxes and things behind him, with a sickeningly crunch from impact. The book flipped through the pages rewriting itself, combing through the pages until it closed itself. With the lights straining brightly it shattered leaving sending the boys into complete darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

The loud alarm clock blared into the sensitive eardrum, it was like nails on a chalkboard, grating at his head. Isaac smacked his nightstand until he found the button to turn it off, giving him a moment to figure out his surroundings. He blinked blearily at the familiar ceiling. He was back home, under the sheets of his bed. The bare white walls with scuff marks, and the dresser the only thing that stood looming over the entire room.

Isaac strained his ears listening to the birds chirp aimlessly out his second floor window. Right outside his room his dad was shuffling about reminding him he needed to leave. Trying to stand up pulled an unseen weight of pain. He struggled to make sense of it, hot white flashes that tightened around his muscles. He must had ran into a truck, there was no way this pain was normal. Hastily, he yanked his nightstand open, different pill bottles clattered to the front of the draw, as he reached for the heavy duty Tylenol, a doctor prescribed him once, taking one. Isaac needed to take a second to make sense of it all. He eyed his jeans that had new tears into the fabric. He hated sleeping in his jeans, they were always tight on him and he would scratch at his thighs until he bruised under the fabric.

Isaac needed to get up, but body urged him to lay down, but he started to get ready for school in the bathroom. What made it worse was there was heavy set of fog clouding up what happened the night before. He couldn’t remember how he had gotten home, or what they even did. It was all three of them playing Mario Kart- no that was just Scott and himself. The shower relieved the tension in his shoulders. Isaac groaned resting his head against the cool tiles trying to soothe his aching head. The book.

The book

The book

The book

Isaac felt a tiny bit better once he was rid of the grim off his body. While he was getting dress his mind kept trying to chase the forgotten memories, but all he came up with was nothing. There wasn’t even a clue into how he had forgotten everything. Isaac couldn’t even remember everything about the damn book. 

“Boy if you are not out of this house, I will drag your ass into the street,” His father warned shouting up at him. Isaac had learned a long time ago never to test his father’s wrath. He bounded down the stairs, his ratty knapsack ready to fall apart at the seams. His dad stood at the foot of the steps staring up at him. 

Isaac’s dad had a broad frame, he used to be a lot more muscular. It just deteriorate with age, but his dad was able to knock men down with just a light shoulder brush. His father stood there with his head cocked to one side, his eyes squinting through his glasses. Isaac knew the gaze, but he wanted to get out of the house. Isaac continued to make his way down the steps, slower, worried that one wrong move would send his dad in a frenzy. Isaac was nearly a feet away from his dad on higher steps, towering over him. Height didn’t matter to his dad. Isaac was shoved backwards on the steps. Isaac scrambled trying to find purchase on the railing. The curvature of the wood pressed into his back digging into his skin to the point of bruising. 

“Sorry dad,” Isaac muttered as he stood up once more, but this time a few more steps up. It didn’t matter, his dad pushed him back down.

“What did I tell you about using up all the hot water?” His dad sneered. 

“Sorry,” Isaac was pretty sure he didn’t waste the hot water, but what did he know? Isaac was pretty sure that his lashing would be bad, but his dad rarely did it in the morning. Isaac would have to hobble to school, and more people would notice if anything was happening. There was an unspoken standoff that his father was playing with him. Isaac swallowed thickly casting a glance at the door. 

Isaac wished he left sooner, maybe taken a shower at the school. At least he had a chance to slip out of the house without his dad noticing. He could’ve wasted the schools hot water, and that would have been better. Anything would have been better than his dad challenging him to step past him.  “Dad… I need to get past you,” Isaac spoke quietly staring at the loafers his father worn. 

“Then go!” He urged Isaac to move past him. Isaac stepped forward careful to not touch his dad. It was like a stepping around a bear’s den, not sure what would provoke the beast. So it was better to tiptoe around. Isaac tried to take a side step clutching the railing to pull him closer towards the edge. Isaac wasn’t sure if he was even breathing, how could he breathe? He made it past his dad, landing on the curve of the stairs. Isaac let out a sigh of relief, it was inaudible, but he was glad his dad wasn’t trying anything. He was so relieved, Isaac didn’t notice his dad elbowing him. It was sharp, completely knocking the air out of him. His dad sent him tumbling into the adjacent wall, scrambling over himself to stay upright. 

Isaac heaved struggling to get his lungs to work. It felt like he was choking from the inside out. It was nauseating as he pressed himself against the wall to steady himself. He needed to get out, every moment he stayed granted his dad another chance to hit him. Isaac grasped his bag staggering to the door. He could hear his dad grumbling, but eager to slam the door on Isaac. His dad would never chase him out the house, that was the good thing about his dad. He tried to be a staple to the community, and that meant doting on his son in public.

The bus rounded the corner to pick him and a few other students up, but it was all a blur. Every part of his body throbbed matching in time to his heart beat. He tried to get a grip on himself, pressing his against the cold bus window. It was hard to be comfortable when each bounce knocked his head against it. Wearily he decided to toss his head back against the cushion just in time for a raging headache to begin. Isaac tried to rub it away, pressing his fingers against his browline, but it didn’t help. 

Isaac concluded as he slowly trudged off the bus, it was going to be a painstakingly long day. The students were chatting away as they moved throughout the halls of the school. Isaac shuffled past everyone to get into his locker. Along the vast row of students, Isaac spotted Stiles and Scott.  They were close, it was evident. The two gravitated off one another circulating within their own world. 

Yesterday was a mistake, Isaac concluded. Whatever the two had was stronger than any outside force. Isaac couldn’t be their third wheel. When they eventually realize he wasn’t worth the hype they would leave him behind. Isaac was able to blend into the background with the ability to become a nameless face inside a crowd. He wasn’t sure if he could deal with having a friend to just be turned away. They had each other and that’s all they will ever need. Isaac was determined to keep a strong composure and focus on graduating. Then not only will he be forgotten, he will be free from it all. 

Isaac slammed the locker shut, only to be bombarded with flyers being tossed around the halls. The school was buzzing with the upcoming festivities. The school’s colors radiated off the halls and the student body. Isaac kept his hood down trying to avoid the gold confetti being flung everywhere. People were pinning up a banner with two lacrosse sticks and their school mascot.

GO BEACON HILLS LACROSSE TEAM

It was the day of the homecoming game. It explained a lot of the preppiness that walked through the halls. People were supporting the team and possibly going to the game later that night. Isaac scrunched up his nose at the thought of watching the game. He wouldn’t be able to sit on the cold metal benches with a bunch of over energetic fans. It was always on a cold night and there would always be a bit of drama to keep people lingering past halftime. Everything about it got under his skin. His head throbbed harder at the prospect of being near screaming fans. 

Isaac planned on heading to the library after detention and burying his head into a book. The quiet, spacious area was all he needed. Hours to keep his distance away from his father. The library was a sacred place for Isaac especially in the big city. It  would be 24-hours, in the city, which meant he could sleep there. Despite his father’s anger it worked out for the both of them. His father didn’t have to see his face, and he didn’t get his face broken. Isaac was engrossed in his own thoughts he hadn’t heard Scott and Stiles trying to usher him over. 

When he finally noticed, Isaac’s eyes narrowed and quickly focused on his shoes. He nudged past students trying to get his homeroom. He could feel the eyes burning a hole through his head. Definitely easier entertaining it. Isaac settled into the far back corner of the room. The headache wouldn’t dissipate, it made everything painful to look at. He needed sleep, or food, anything to relieve him from the temporary nightmare he was living in. 

____________________

 

The last bell rung and the students erupted with noise of relief. Isaac could only muster a groan as he lifted his head. It was heavy like his neck couldn’t support it any longer. The throbbing sensation was excruciating, but no matter what he did it didn’t help. Slowly Isaac trudged his way towards the detention room. At least it would be accompanied with silence, hopefully giving him some reprieve from the pounding. 

As he approached the door he could see the familiar duo standing outside. They were talking to each other. How could they have anything else to say? If the rumors were true, there was nothing to say. They were glued to each other. Scott was the first one to notice Isaac smacking Stiles in the chest. 

“-Ow you didn’t need to do that!” Stiles grunted turning to face Isaac. 

“Hey what’s up, dude? We haven’t seen you all day,” Scott easy smile gave Isaac that sense of comfort. It was bizarre. 

“Yeah it’s like you’ve been trying to avoid us,” Stiles pointed out. Scott smacked his shoulder not glancing over at his dear friend. 

“I’m just not in the mood,” Isaac gave a futile glance towards the door. He hoped the teacher would rear his ugly head out and pull him inside. Scott’s smile dropped for a second, jarring Isaac. 

“Oh...Well… I get that. So are you coming to tonight's game?” Scott asked quirking his head to the side. Isaac wanted to flat out say no, why would he submit himself to staring at people play a sport he didn’t get. The longer Isaac stayed silent, the sadder Scott’s eyes became. They twinkled big eyed, and a faint sense of pout on his pink lips. How the hell are his lips so goddamn pink? 

“Scott he clearly doesn’t car-” Another smack silenced Stiles for the moment. 

Isaac cleared his throat taking a tentative step back as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Maybe…I’ll think about it,” In that moment the teacher decided to rear his head out of the classroom. The teacher motioned for the boys to get inside, and Isaac sprinted into the room. He didn’t need Scott milking out an okay from him. Though he knew it could happen. 

The detention room was quite, a few students spaced out around the room. No one wanted to sit near each other. Stiles didn’t want to get close either. He was a mix of hot and cold when it came to Isaac. Mostly, it looked like it was all for the benefit of Scott. If he had a choice, he would have never talked to Isaac after that day. Which was fine, the boy was quirky to Isaac. He was a ball of energy that commanded the room in this bizarre way. Stiles didn’t need to speak people would just know he was there, and that made Isaac shy away. 

Halfway through detention the coach stormed into the room. He looked irate, as Isaac peered up at him. Isaac head was buried into the crook of his shoulder. The coach glared at Stiles who tried to make feeble small talk. Somehow the coach managed to get Stiles out of detention for the day. Stiles offered that he should stay and learn his lesson but he got dragged out. Who wanted to stay in detention? Isaac pressed his head back down into his arm and waited out the rest of the time. 

Once detention let out Isaac dragged himself into the library. The game didn’t start for another three hours, but it wasn’t like he was counting. Isaac walked past the librarian and a few students near main entrance. Everyone was engrossed in what they were doing. It was the few people who valued what the school had to offer. A library that wasn’t made up of nonsense. Isaac settled into a far corner of the room. A bunch of books lined the shelves in front of him. 

Isaac could feel the headache once again, it was coming and going. It couldn’t sustain itself throughout the entire day, but it didn’t let Isaac forget it was there. In an attempt to ignore it he went to work on some of his homework. Isaac didn’t mind doing the work, it was a way to refocus his mind onto something else. Usually something less anxiety inducing. Plus it helped to bring up his grades when he couldn’t do it by other means. His attendance and poor test grades often left him with mediocre scores. 

Math was his worst subject. Isaac hated doing it. The math problems always looked like a foreign language to him. As much as he hated the subject it gave him fond memories. His mom would sit down next to him and start going through the math problems. She would lean forward to get a better look and Isaac would be able to smell her rose scented perfume. His mom would laugh at Isaac’s antics to get her to do it for him. But she wouldn’t relent, and tell him to sound it out. 

He remembered one night she couldn’t figure out a math problem. His mom sat there baffled, eye’s raised, trying to do it in his mind. She eventually gave up and called Camden from the living room. Camden hair was a lot longer back then, it was the Justin Bieber craze. Camden groaned at them not knowing and looked over the math problem. He spat out the number in record time before retreating back into the den. His mom laughed not even phased by it all. She wrote down the number on the page for Isaac. “You two are going to be smarter than me soon,” She spoke rising up from the seat to go make dinner. 

It was the little things he tried to hold onto. The parts that aren’t tarnished by his grim past. Isaac’s mind would always take him to that place if he lingered enough in his thoughts. How his father would be an angry mess. Constantly yelling at his mom who shriveled up into a small ball. Then the time Camden ran as far as he could after their mom passed on. Her death, slow and painful. Only time his father treated them like a true family. All of it was a lot to take in. It made his head hurt. 

Isaac shut his eyes trying to keep the tears from spilling. The time he spent lose in his thoughts was motivating him to finish all of his homework. The hours ticking by on sweet nothings. But nothing stayed that way and the tears that wanted to run away became a vicious drum beat in his mind. It was worse, the lights blared down on his skin. Each breath he took felt like another stab into his chest. Desperately, Isaac clutched his head digging his palms into his temples. The pain left him breathless as he struggled to stay calm. Isaac was a groaning mess as he pressed his head into the book on his lap. Isaac tried to scream but it came out a muffled groan. 

Slowly he lifted his head up trying to steady his breathing. It felt like his eyes would pop out of his skull, death would be a better alternative than the pain. The yellow wall of the library were moving in on him. Ready to press him into a thin sheet. Each book crept closer the shelves wobbled precariously in his vision. He couldn’t tell what was stable and what wasn’t. He needed everything to back up. He needed the books to back up. The world couldn’t be closing in on him it wasn’t possible. Neither was the migraine from hell, but it was happening. 

His mind had enough, a mental dagger stabbed itself into his head. Isaac screamed staring at the floor. Let it kill him, he needed it to end. All of it needed to end. Another scream erupted from his lips. The books that were imposing on his space were sent flying off the shelves. They landed with a tremendous thud. Isaac could hear the row behind that one knock the books off that shelf. In that instant the pain had been lifted from his brain. 

Isaac could feel the beads of sweat drip along his cheeks mixing with the tears. Finally, it felt like he could breathe for the first time that day. The foot that was pressed down on his chest released its hold. The bookshelf had massive gaps as all the books were piled on top of one another haphazardly. Isaac parted his lips to say something but nothing could come out. He wanted the books to back off, but there was no telling how they managed to do that. 

“What on earth-” The librarian voice pulled Isaac out of his stupor. His eyes went wide, struggling to take a deep breath as watched her. The older lady distraught over the books, something he managed to do. Isaac quickly gathered his things. Without a glance back he sprinted out of the library. The school’s halls were dark it only alluded to the fear that clenched his heart. 

Isaac took slow deep breaths, his mind racing over what had happened. He tried to rationalize it with a strong gust of wind. Wind from a nearly windowless library. It didn’t matter how he tried to justify it books don’t fly off the shelves. For a split second he wondered if it was a ghost. It’s a possibility, but logic was winning out his own beliefs. There was nothing he could think of that could explain it away. His heart started to race once more. Isaac wanted to go home, bury himself under the covers for the rest of the night. It was the first thing that gave him solace. With a firm grip on something real he made his way towards the double doors of the school. 

The high school was massive. It had a few acres to itself to educate the Beacon Hill residents and a two other towns. The towns took pride in educating their youth. The school was big enough that it housed a few community organizations on the weekends. The high school had different buildings with designated cafeterias and gymnasiums attached. Within the center of all the buildings was the fields. The main field was used for all the major sports games. Where the school could crowd in hundreds of roaring fans. 

With the Lacrosse game in full swing that night was no different. Once through the doors, Isaac could hear the fans cheering. The bleachers were filled with adoring fans. Isaac grasped his book bag tighter to his shoulder trying to make his way through the crowds. Distinct cliques bunched up tight around one another made it hard for Isaac to push his way through. It was hard to walk as he got closer to the concession stand. To the point Isaac was standing more than he was moving. 

The only way he was cutting through the crowd was making his way through the edge of the track field that separated the bleachers from the main field. Isaac nudged his way through the masses till he was near the metal bars to box the fans in. 

The score was  **_6-7_ ** the opposing team in the lead. The Sterling Knights dressed in a dark blue and white uniform. The coach’s voice cut through the noise caught his attention. The spit flew from the coach’s lips. His face was a bright red as he paced along the sideline. Isaac was expecting him to join the players onto the field. The coach turned towards Stiles turning his rage onto him. Stiles looked like he was ready to pass out. 

He was more interested in the grass he kicked up. Isaac thought Stiles would be on the field at least, he got out of detention for it. Stiles had said something because coach turned his attention back onto the teammates. Isaac didn’t want to stay any longer as he continued to make his way down the edge of the bleachers. The noise and action tore him away from the library fiasco. If only for a moment he was able to focus on something else. 

Isaac reached the announcers that sat comfortably in folded chairs. Papers were taped down on the banner that held the school name across the front. The two boys were making commentary. They swore that they were waiting to see how it would play out, but they weren’t rooting for the team. The Knights scored another goal cementing their lead over Beacon Hills. Isaac didn’t see the point of them commentating if they were bias. 

“-There’s the snap. It looks like it's going to be another good run if they can pass it off to Whittemore. Captain of the team for a year now, right Johnny?” One of the announcers spoke.

“You’re right. He’s one of the powerhouses of this team. There’s a pass and the Knights have the ball once more. They are racing down the field. It looks like another goal for the Knights. Wait just a second! Greenberg intercepted and he tossed the ball to McCall,” The other commented. 

Isaac looked at the field. Scott was rushing down the field, sidestepping and moving through the field none of the other team were able to touch them. Isaac grinned to himself, Scott was good. He was making bold moves and taking the charge. One of the offense stormed towards Scott. His head low, a bull charging at its victim. It was the first time since Scott was making a play he froze up. Isaac watched as Scott stood their frozen as the guy pulled his stick up. He was going to mow Scott down. 

Isaac couldn’t bare to watch it happen. He squinted his eyes shut. Once the oohs and ahhs began he knew it would be all over. He waited, and waited, and waited. There was no reaction. Actually, the whole crowd became quiet. Isaac opened his eyes, the whole world stopped. That’s how he took it. Everyone was frozen, not one blink or gasp for air. 

They stood like statues no reaction. There was some rustling, Stiles stood up waving his hands over coach’s face. Stiles was probably the only person who wasn’t frozen in time. 

“Hello?” Scott’s voice called out. It was the only thing that was breaking the silence. He stood out on the field with the player ready to push him down. A few centimeters off and he would have been taken down. 

They were the only ones able to move. Stiles and Isaac stared at each other for a moment. Unsure what was happening. There was no way the world can suddenly stop. Scott had took a step to the side away from the boy. It was like the world moved once more. The crowds cheered on like nothing had happened. The player charged forward past Scott. Which left him open for a goal. Scott rushed forward like nothing had happened. He scored the goal and gave them another point on the board. 

Stiles rushed over to Isaac brows knitted together. “What was that?” He questioned lowly.

Isaac shook his head. Nothing made sense. The day spun on a different axle and they were experiencing the full fledge of weirdness. Stiles wasn’t taking the silent head shake for an answer. He looked towards the field. Scott was lingering on the backlines. He was staying focus, and maybe that’s what was happening. Isaac was focusing too much. 

“Stay till the end of the game,” Stiles told Isaac facing the boy once more. He walked back to keep the seat warm. He left Isaac standing in front of a crowd that was unaware they lost minutes on their life. 

_______________

 

Beacon Hills won the game. The uproar was tremendous. The team was circling one another jumping all around in triumph. Stiles was one of the few that didn’t join the circle. He was pensive, as he gathered his things off the bench. The crowd was slowly dispersing, everyone discussing the game. As if they all knew what exactly happened. Isaac hated the wait, he ended up buying some hot chocolate and tucked himself into a corner seat. 

Once everyone left the field it left Isaac with the thoughts he couldn’t materialize with the surrounding noise. The books flew off the shelves, the world stopped. Maybe they were signs that the world was going to end. A complete Signs moment or Final Destination. It would lead up to the conclusion that the world will burn. Unless Isaac does something. That or he was going insane. That was a better theory. Though he knew it wasn’t the case. He wasn’t going insane, two other people saw it happen. 

Stiles and Scott appeared from the doors from the locker room. They dragged their duffle bags with them. Neither of them said anything as they all piled into Stiles car. No one was sure what to say, or where to start. Stiles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel before driving out of the driveway. 

“Scott nice plays tonight,” Isaac spoke up, it was quiet but it was genuine. He hadn’t expected Scott to move through the field that fluidly. Scott didn’t score another goal, but he passed off and charged when he needed to. He knocked people down, with a lanky frame he had. Scott looked at Isaac through the rearview mirror, smiling at Isaac.

“Okay! So what the hell happened?!” Stiles shouted as he waited at a stop sign. 

“Everyone just froze, I don’t know dude. It was weird,” Scott breathed out.

“I can’t figure out what caused it to happen. Why weren’t we affected. What makes us so special?” Stiles demanded questions. No one could summon a credible answer. They fell back into a pensive silence. They were stuck with too many questions and not one single answer. 

“This whole day has been weird,” Isaac admitted, “I had a bad headache this whole day-”

“And that’s weird?” Stiles questioned glancing at Isaac through the mirror.

Isaac glared at Stiles, “No! But nothing helped it. It just got worse. I was in the library. I thought my head was going to explode then all the books off two rows of shelves were pushed out of the shelves. There was no wind, nothing. But after that my headache went away.”

“So a big gust of wind knocked the books down and your headache went away?” Stiles wagered. 

“Books don’t fly off of shelves. When has a book flown off a shelf like that?” Isaac bit back. It managed to keep Stiles quiet for a moment. 

“If you think that’s weird you guys have to hear what happened to me,” Stiles began as he pulled over to the side of the road, “I have been having the weirdest deja-vu. I was remembering key points like I knew they were going to happen. Then earlier today I had fallen in gym class but I had a weird vision thing. Like I wasn’t seeing the gym I was seeing something else.”

“What did you see?” Scott turned to face Stiles. 

“It’s hard to make out, but it was weird. I saw trees but it was dark like night time. There was this arrow it just came out of nowhere. I literally saw it fly through the air. But it got someone in the shoulder and they fell against a tree and sunk down to the ground. It was a guy for sure. I think someone was getting hunted, but it was odd. When I came to it had only been a minute after I fell to the floor. But the vision thing felt like it lasted forever. It was weird.” 

Isaac didn’t know what to make of it. He leaned back in the seat stretching his back out. Visions could be anything. Maybe it was truly Final Destination and he was able to foretell the future, or they all were going insane. Isaac buried his head in his hands. The vision didn’t sound weird, but coupled with everything else that day it was getting weirder. 

“The freezing thing, I think I did it,” Scott spoke up, “The guy was coming at me and I froze. But I kept thinking he needs to stop, I need more time. Then it happened. It was really weird guys. No one was moving.” Scott’s eyes went wide finally able to take it all in. He shifted in his seat, fingers tightening around the hem of his t-shirt. “What if it’s what we did yesterday?!” Scott cried. 

Stiles was ready to dispel that notion but as he parted his lips he grew quiet. Yesterday was bizarre and Isaac couldn’t remember much. Another thing to add to list of weird occurances. 

“Does anyone remember what happened after we did the spell?” Isaac piped up hoping one of them could place his whereabouts. 

Scott shook his head, “No I just woke up this morning not remembering anything that happened. I was in my bed...Stiles I swear to god if that book cursed us or has some demon thing. I will personally kill you!” 

“Hold on! We didn’t summon some demon, that’s just stupid. I don’t remember anything either. I just woke up with a headache. So let’s just hypothetically say its the book. The spell was about invoking powers. So maybe we got superpowers?” Stiles suggested. 

Isaac eyes narrowed shaking his head, “How can a book give us superpowers? Books are just words on pages.”

“So are a lot of other books but I don’t see you crucifying The Torah or The Bible. So maybe it's like a direct connection to some deity and we now have powers,” Stiles reasoned, “Witch’s books are supposed to be powerful. Maybe Grams was an all powerful witch.” 

Isaac grew quiet twisting his head to look out the window. The dark suburban streets stretched out for blocks on end. Isaac became grim as he tried to shake the past from his mind. “I’m still convinced we brought some demon to us,” Scott threw in. 

“Alright fine!” Stiles exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention to him. as he pulled the car back onto the streets, “I’ll figure out what’s going on.” It was the first thing the boys needed to hear, as they became content. Stiles thumbed at the stitching on the wheel to keep him focused. 

Isaac was glad someone was going to sort it out. Although, he knew that searching only led to one thing, trouble. For once he hoped it wouldn’t leave him grasping for some form of salvation. 


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles grunted as he rubbed his forehead along the smooth wooden desk. His computer was awake watching the teen sleep.Stiles barely laid in his bed before he rushed to his computer trying to find out everything he could about his grandmother’s book. He was up nearly the entire night combing over everything  that had to do with witchcraft. Multiple tabs were open with different websites. Most of them looked like they were created back in the mid 2000’s with funky fonts and basic web layouts. A few wiki articles told him what a Book of Shadows was. He was surprised that his Grams didn’t even bother to properly name hers, but there was nothing to name it. The book was lifeless and the name suited its purpose. 

A lot of websites had spells and rituals for people to do. It was ranging from love to hate spells, hexes, money, and health spells. Everything under the sun was jammed packed into neat little categories. There were different variations to the same spell, to the point where Stiles wasn’t sure which one was the right one. The rituals varied too but they had similar ingredients. Mostly candles and herbs that someone could grab at a local store. None of them spoke of an all powerful god. It was split up to different gods, a lot of them were females, that ruled over nature. But they always excluded the names and it left Stiles grasping at straws. Most of the sites had books, like The Bible for Wiccans. But they all varied. 

Stiles had become frustrated because one answer always led to another contradiction. Right before his eyes gave out on him, succumbing him to sleep. He settled on a spiritual shop on the outskirts of town. The site had the word Wiccan thrown in there, but the shop was independently owned. It was like a witch’s warehouse. Stiles hoped it would lead him to a better truth then the diluted clusters he found. 

Stiles could hear a firm knock on his door as he lifted his head drearily from it’s spot. His father sighed taking in the sight of his son. It might have been a weekend but his dad hated to see his son up all night. It only reminded him how he couldn’t be there. Stiles father was the sheriff of the town. A humbled man with the gentlest smile anyone had seen. His father was almost always adorned in his uniform. A tan jacket with a bright gold star over his heart. He had a cowboy hat to shroud his face from the hot California sun. Despite the fact he burned with the hat. He was an average sized guy, 5’9’’, with a slight pouch from the beer he would consume in his off time. 

“Stiles you do have a bed,” The sheriff noted, firm in his demeanor, but there was barely a bite to it. The sheriff knew his kid. It didn’t matter what he did, Stiles did what he wanted. One of the few blessings the Sheriff ever got was that his kid did nothing. Stiles was either at school or at Scott’s. He was never worried where his kid ran off to. 

“Yeah Dad,” Stiles croaked out rubbing the back of the neck, “But Lucy was lonely.”

“Who’s Lucy?” The sheriff’s eyes narrowed as he grasped his leather belt, sinking his thumbs into the loops. 

“My computer,” Stiles cracked a knowing grin as he leaned back in his seat. The sleep clung heavily on to his mind. Stiles rubbed his eyes. 

“You named your computer Lucy?” The sheriff shook his head. His son the comedian. Stiles had a way of twisting the conversations into absurdity. The Sheriff would have to just tell his kid to shut up because whatever he was spewing would make no sense. Though he got a rousing laugh that would reach the precinct. “Listen, Stiles I know about detention. Fighting with the new kid, huh? What was that about?” He asked. 

Stiles smile faltered as he turned back to his computer. He switched it back on trying to distract himself from answering the question. “He just said something about mom,” Stiles pulled up Facebook trying to find a post to redirect the topic. Stiles could hear the sigh as his father settled down on the foot of his bed. 

“Stiles, you can’t keep fighting with people because of your mom. She wouldn’t want you to be running around doing that-” The sheriff stated.

“Who else will stand up for her,” Stiles muttered. 

“She doesn’t need any of us to stand up for her,” The sheriff watched Stiles shoulders tense up. “She doesn’t need us to stand up for her because she can do it herself. People who knew her, knew the type of person she was. You’re a good kid, we don’t want you getting into trouble over her. I think she would personally come down and raise a little hell.”

Stiles chuckled weakly as he toyed with the edges of the paper strewn out before him. He loved to imagine his mom being this complete badass. A superhero who would protect her family no matter what. Yet, she would be nurturing just like a mother should. Her warm hands pulling him into a hug. Her infectious laugh bringing a smile to his face. But it didn’t matter. He twirled around to face his dad. 

“I won’t get into anymore fights,” Stiles assured him with a perfect painted smile on his lips. The sheriff raised a brow from his hunched position. 

“You said that last time,” The sheriff pointed out, “Maybe we should go back to Dr.Lovell?” Stiles smile dropped all fake pretenses trickled away. Stiles loathed going to Dr.Lovell. She was nice for all the wrong reasons. She validated him, excused away his problems because of the tragedy he faced. Which for anyone else it would be a godsend. All it was in Stiles ear was that he was broken. That everything he did was an outcome because of his mother's death. He could never be mad to be mad. It was always this complex puzzle that drew back to his past. 

“I'm good dad,” he grumbled. Stiles turned back around flicking the computer screen on. There was something old fashioned in the way his father stood up. It served to remind him how much time he had left with his dad. Less than most if he kept up in the task force. The sheriff’s walkie-talkie went off, a loud buzzing noise with a crackly voice. From afar it sounded like white noise and mumbles, but close enough to the ear piece and you could make out a plethora of words. 

Stiles was able to hear what the sheriff’s dispatcher had to say, “-There’s a couple viscerally torn apart off the highway not far from Motel 8. First responders are on the scene and two deputy’s in tow. The responders are requesting you.” The staticky voice rambled off everything they knew. Two bodies dead? That’s enough to tickle anybody pink. Stiles already knew his father was going to be on that scene. It was fine, in the end, it just meant longer nights for his dad. 

He could hear the mumbles of a rush goodbye from his father. If only Stiles was more popular, he could have had raging parties. Instead of spending his nights munching on chips and learning about the lore of popular pop culture. At least he could say that Scott found it interesting. Stiles wrote down the address and quickly pocketed it. Let the town buzz about a new death. Stiles would grab the photos and gory details later while his dad was passed out on the couch. 

  
  


______

 

The shop sat between a Chinese takeout and a 99 cent store. The path was a mini strip. There was only one stretch of path with a tiny brick fence on the opposite end. The path had a brick awning that attached to the main building. If no one was looking the tiny strip of stores would have gone unnoticed. 

During the day it looked nice, the light posts were a black metal that had fresh flowers in a nest higher up. The town had this old towny vibe with the happy folk walking through. It wasn’t Beacon Hills at all, it was like its own town that merged with Beacon. Stiles had passed the place three times walking up and down the street confused at the change of building numbers. 

Finally, much to his chagrin, he decided to ask an older lady who sat on the benches. Once he realized the small alleyway was a strip of stores he finally found it. The bell chimed, lighter than the obnoxious ones the bodegas had. It was quiet, not a customer to be found. Yet, there was amples amount of merchandise. The light purple carpet and white walls lightened up the windowless store. Smack dab was a glass case of wands, thick as a finger with different stones attached to the tips. One of the bigger ones was a foot long ivory colored wand with an amethyst crystal on top. Thick veins wrapped around the base as it fused back into the main framework. All five wands sat on a luscious velvet red pillow with price tags handwritten and wrapped around them. They weren’t cheap, the biggest one was a thousand easy. The rest tapered off till the small, made for a baby wizard, was fifty bucks. 

Stiles steered clear of those. There was racks of postcards and little prayer cards. They were much more reasonable. He could see a rack, further down the aisle, with incense sticks, sticking out of the containers. There was a lot to look at and he had no idea where to start. Stiles could hear a cough, twisting his head to the counter directly to his left. It was the checkout counter which was right as a customer would walk in. 

There sat a man with rich dark skin and the lightest brown eyes Stiles ever seen. He had been sitting over a few books strewn out before him. Each one different in size, leaning over a glass counter with a few items closed off. The man had been watching Stiles waiting for him to make a move. The man had white robes on which only seemed to contrast beautifully against his complexion. 

“Can I help you with something?” The man asked, he was formal, but pleasantries were out of the question. 

What was Stiles supposed to do? Usually his boisterous and tactless self would bulldoze a person with what he needed. However, he didn’t know what he needed. There was nothing concrete about this mystical world that he swore he was a part of. He knew he needed to answer the man, but his mind was a warm liquid. It was like curious fingertips running along his skin and brain, unable to help find the words but enough to prod at his thoughts. It was different. The man continued to peer at him, it was only then that there was something powerful about him.

It wasn’t in the way he spoke, or the way he sat hunched over the books. There was something physical that exuded from the man. Just like attraction with many models on the runway, or the brooding man in the corner of a club. The guy behind the counter oozed a wave of power. It tingled Stiles to his core. The fingertips that probed through his mind made a connection to the current the man gave off. Whoever the man was, he was doing something to Stiles. He could feel it. 

“What are you doing?” Stiles replied.

The man brow rose as he shifted back in his seat. The fingertips quickly retracted leaving Stiles cold. The chills ran up and down his spine. With the feeling gone Stiles kinda missed it. The warmth it encompassed made Stiles feel like he was just as powerful. “I’m reading,” He motioned to the books. 

“Not that, the other thing. Were you feeling me up or something?” Stiles wasn’t letting go of the feeling. There was a whimsical smile tugging on the man’s lips that stretched only so far before retreating to something guarded. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” The man wasn’t allowing Stiles to the courtesy of an answer. Frustrated, Stiles brows pinched together as he faced the man entirely. No longer possibly roaming the aisles. 

“Yeah you can!” Stiles retorted, “I-I just don’t know how.” 

The man rose from his seat, the floor creaked beneath his feet. He started to make his way down the aisle. Stiles wasn’t sure what to do, hesitantly he followed. The aisle had candles and bottles lined up. The candles ranged in size and colors. A few had pictures of saints and gods plastered to the tags. The incense sticks and the accompanying holders were at the far end. 

Along the wall was an array of books. A few were biblical with angels and stories from The Bible. However, there was a lot more dedicated to more nature. Herbology, Astrology, and little books dedicated to Wiccan varieties. The man walked through the tapestry curtains that led to the back room. It was a separate section of the store. The lights were dimmer, orange and  purplish glow. There were a few rooms closed off, but the main area was a lounge. 

In the middle was a plush carpet, with bean bags on either side of a royal blue couch. The pillows were embroidered with little bits of beads sewn in. There was a huge purple dyed mandala pinned to the burnt orange colored walls. It all flowed together seamlessly with a strong aroma of lavender. Stiles settled on the couch feeling the dip pull him back. Stiles grunted shifting himself forward as the man went into one of the closed off room. 

When he returned he had a few books varying degrees in size. A few were as thick as a textbook. Another was tied together with twine and thick cardboard covers. “Mieczyslaw, what do you need to know?” The man pulled out a wooden chair setting it in front of the round counter. 

“How do you know my name?” Stiles exclaimed shifting on the edge. He was ready to run, his eyes glanced over at the door. Maybe it wasn’t a smart idea to come to some weird place. 

“I know things. It’s how I can tell that your not here to cause trouble,” The man replied taking a pen out of the wood container as he scribbled some things down. The man was working on his own prerogative. Unphased by the teenage who was nearly off the couch. 

“How do you know that? What is this?” Stiles was rattling off every question his brain could fire out. A man who knew his first name, gave off a weird vibe, and was calm. Stiles couldn’t be calm even if he knew the answer to a question. 

The man held his hands up in jest trying to quiet Stiles down. “Let’s start from the beginning. I’m Deaton, and I own this shop. Now why did you come here Mieczyslaw” It wasn’t much of an introduction, Stiles lips pinched together. He hadn’t heard his name be spoken more than once since elementary school. Before he was able to come up with nickname that didn’t make his skin crawl. 

“It’s Stiles,” He stated firmly, “You aren’t answering my questions-” Deaton’s brow rose as he leaned back in the seat, “- like how do you know this stuff?” 

Deaton nodded his head. He stared back at Stiles his fingers twirling along the thin pen. It felt like he was on a panel being judged. The familiar current shot out. It wasn’t easily detectable. It was like tiny thread-like tendrils grazing his skin but it sunk in deeper like it was infringing upon his very soul. Stiles brows furrowed, “Stop that!” He insisted. Stiles tugged his sleeves further down his arms bunching the ends in his fists. The strings dissipated but the feelings remained. 

“Alright,” Deaton stated giving in, “I’m a witch. I’ve been studying and practicing for years.”

“That doesn’t- okay fine. You’re a witch,” Stiles huffed rubbing his brow, “What were you doing to me,” He motioned with the wiggle of his fingers. 

It was hard to take Stiles seriously, but Deaton was trying his best. “Well everyone has a discipline. You know what that is?” Stiles shook his head. “A discipline is something you focus on. What you’re good at. I have a very good sense of self. I’m able to read a person and feel their intentions. I can’t unpack years of information, but simple things like names and motives come easily to me.” 

“What?” Stiles shook his head, “That makes no sense! You can’t feel someone’s intentions!” 

“Why not?” Deaton grinned as he crossed his arms against his chest. 

“Because motivation isn’t like emotions that display across someone’s face or a name that’s clearly printed on everything a person owns. I can go rob a bank in one minute and then rescue a kitten the next. It’s not- no.” Stiles frowned. There were many ways people can go about things but motivations were deeper. It was something taken from bits and pieces of a person's past, behaviors, mindsets. No one could definitively say what a person’s intentions were. 

“Of course, on a day to day basis I can’t say what the person on the corner will do. But we hold ourselves to certain standards. We either surround ourselves with good or bad. I can pick apart if you would be someone who would want to do harm. From there I can take precaution,” Deaton was sensible stating his discipline like a passage from a book. He had probably said it numerous times. Constantly explaining his powers to people who didn’t fully grasp it. Stiles wasn’t sure if he grasped it himself. It went against what he thought about people. 

Deaton’s discipline curved towards humans being absolute in nature. They were bad or they were good. Overarching themselves in traits defined by something outside their control. Stiles wasn’t sure if he wanted to believe that. People reform, change, grow as human beings. Yet stripped away at its core meant something far more sinister. That no one changed no matter what they did. 

“So why are you here?” Deaton repeated.

Stiles licked his lips, he had nearly forgotten why he showed up in the first place. “Uhm...My friends and I had weird things happening to us. We believe it comes from my grandmother’s book. It’s her Book of Shadows and we just need to know what’s happening.” Stiles sighed running his fingers through his hair. 

“I think you already know what’s happening. I don’t see the purpose of you coming here to see me,” Deaton was too matter-of-fact with vague answers and clipped answer. It made Stiles feel like his whole endeavour was for nothing. Where Stiles should’ve agreed and promptly excused himself for making a fool. He dug his feet into the ground thinking of better questions to ask.

“I need to because we don’t know what this means. We don’t know how to make it stop, or what to do.” Stiles thought hard about it. He wasn’t sure what was correct or not. He could easily sit there and read the book but he wasn’t touching it till he was ready. Deaton nodded and laid out a book before him. It was a published book with a glossy cover. It was The Handbook Guide to Being a Witch. Stiles glanced up at Deaton and at the book. “I’m serious. I need help not bullshit.”

“Just because the world is saturated with lies doesn’t mean there isn’t truth sprinkled in there,” He nudged the book forward for Stiles to take. The book seemed faked. He was expecting a book made out of old leather, maybe human skin, with paper yellow and singed. The ink would be pressed into the paper, all of it handwritten. Instead it was published, printed, and beautifully made into a compact book. 

“Then what is this supposed to tell me?” Stiles lifted the book letting it flop into his lap. 

“It gives you the basic concepts and important information you need to move forward on your journey.” Deaton motioned for him to peruse the book. Stiles sighed to himself as he opened the book to peek inside. 

The table of contents was separated into herbology, astrology, candles, safe spaces, history and so forth. Stiles fanned the pages his eye catching the moon phases displayed in glossy color text. It was getting to be a lot for Stiles to wrap his mind around. He assumed that a spell could be spoken and with a wave of a wand he would get what he wanted. “My friends aren’t going to want to learn about this,” Stiles muttered, “Does this explain the weird stuff that happened?” 

“It’s up to them to choose their own paths,” Deaton pointed out, “What weird things have you guys encountered?” 

Stiles had to recount what had happened. Isaac’s story was harder to explain but the time stopping had been the one to send him on the quest. Deaton had sat there patiently. Even as Stiles fumbled over his words trying to collect his thoughts. The soft ocean noises cascaded through their ears lulling any stress for another time. Deaton leaned forward carefully selecting a book to skim through. Stiles huffed but continued on his recollection. 

“Your friends need to practice with you,” Deaton began, “You three are… Something that a lot of people have waited for.” He stood up maneuvering towards the locked door. Deaton emerged a few moments later with a book aged gracefully through the years. The leather had shrunk as twine roped through the covers up towards the spine. There was an iridescent gem placed in the middle. It was cloudy with a cream color that stood out from the nearly black leather. 

“There was a prophecy of sorts written back in the 15th century. There would be three witches born and are to be the strongest witches alive. They would bring good and conquer the evil that has been growing. I believe that would be you guys,” Deaton had opened a page of the book showing it to Stiles. 

Stiles leaned forward. It was written with broken ink. It was hard for him to read but it was there. It was an old journal log. The person had a vision of a thing called the Nemeton and three lights beaming outwards. They spoke about some unknown evil that continued to spread across the land killing people. Stiles figured it must have been a plague or diseases from people ‘discovering’ other lands. A lot of it could be explained away, and it was a dream. Even the day that was mentioned wasn’t profound. 

His birthday was October 31st. Most spooky omens came from his birthday. His birthday happened to be when the dead came to life, pagans got in touch with their powers, veil of worlds thin, and a day to be drunk in scantily clad costumes. If his birthday was any other day maybe this would hold up. But his day was significant as any other holiday celebrated all over the world. 

“The person sounds like anyone with the knowledge of the time.” Stiles pointed out. 

Deaton shook his head as he turned the book back towards himself. “You may want to believe that but she states your powers. The ability to freeze time, to move things, and to see into the future. Also the date she talks about would be the day you three would be born. You may not want to believe it, but she talks about you three in detail. When’s are your birthday’s?” He closed the book setting it off to the side. 

“Scott and my birthday is October 31st but that doesn’t mean anything because Isaac’s birthday isn’t the same,” Stiles pointed out. He stopped for a moment. Stiles didn’t even know Isaac’s birthday. Deaton brow rose, his lips pinched together as he settled back into this seat. 

“Then maybe I’m wrong but the powers you are experiencing will grow in time. Until you learn to control it, it will come out in various ways. I would highly suggest you learn how to use it properly before it spirals.” A soft chime from the front door caught their attention. Deaton grew quiet, his brow became pensive. For the first time since Stiles met him he got up with vigor. He placed the books back into the locked room. He moved around the room cleaning up whatever was left behind. “Take what I’ve given you, learn it. But I would suggest you come back with them. I still think you are the ones they talked about,” 

Stiles stood up, quickly gathering his things. The books were stuffed into his knapsack and slung over his shoulder. He followed Deaton out of the backroom. A man had leaned his body over the front counter. The suede jacket pulled tight over his broad shoulders. Deaton had moved towards the counter quietly talking to the guy. He looked like a Texan fellow with cowboy boots to match. The two didn’t even notice Stiles leaving the store. He got back into his dingy Jeep. The bag settling in the seat next to him. 

The dashboard read 5:00 PM. Time had seemingly passed by. Stiles started to drive back to his house. He wasn’t sure if he could trust Deaton. Everything sounded crazier in person. Behind a computer screen it sounded plausible. The world seemed nicer and open behind a screen. He was certain they weren’t what the prophecy Deaton was talking about. No one would follow those old stories anyways. Prophecies were made for stories and religious texts to show higher powers. The only thing high about it was Deaton. 

A lot of he could understand and he believed they have superpowers. That was where he drew the line. Anything past that was abused. The pages continued whoever wrote the journal entries had more to say. Stiles wouldn’t be shocked if they said they would save the world. Three people couldn’t save the world. Everything had been done on a whim. Stiles rubbed the back of his neck racing down the highway back towards Beacon Hills.


	5. Chapter 5

That Monday had the whole school abuzz. Everyone was sporting Green and Gold in celebration for the first game of the year. Their mascot was running up and down the halls with two cheerleaders on their flank. Even the the teachers were in good spirits. Everyone was drinking off the high from the game. Scott couldn’t have been more excited but he wasn’t- excited. Everywhere he looked there was a mention to grades, college, and what would happen if he didn’t pass. He would become the nobody or the washed up athlete people would look down upon. 

One of the players had wrapped his arm around Scott’s shoulder. He shook him trying to jar the life into him. Scott faked a smile, patting the guy on his way. If only the school wasn’t in love with sports. The halls made it hard for Scott to spot Stiles. The two always found each other, one way or another. Although, he was less than thrilled to hear what Stiles had to say. The day before, Stiles was texting him about witchcraft. Every spell, history, store insanity that he could cram into a text message. Scott couldn’t deal with it. He didn’t want to hear about how they unlocked some portal into the underworld and now he was condemned to hell. Those were the type of things that were saved for the weird kids (maybe he was a weird kid). 

Scott decided that he wasn’t going to get involved. It was safer that way. He’ll nod along to Stiles antics but in the end wash it out of his mind. Scott didn’t have time to pay attention to craziness, his life was more important. With that mindset he pulled himself together to walk to class. It was a nice day, a gentle breeze to remind them fall was coming. The days were still warm to the point Scott needed two showers a day to get rid of the sweat. 

While the world slowly descended into winter. Scott was enjoying every day before he would have to bundle up. Scott’s mind drifted to Isaac. He hadn’t heard from Isaac at all. The two were barely friends, and Isaac was wrapped up into the craziness. Scott wondered how invested Isaac was into the witchcraft, and how far to stay away. It sucked because the guy seemed lost not malicious, and he could use a friend. 

A smoke blew into his face as it slowly clouded the outdoor hallway. It was Luke and his gang. The burnouts crowding around for an early morning smoke. Scott could clearly smell the weed permeating the air. The group mingled completely blissful to waste their days getting high. They were the kids who wouldn’t amount to much. They would finish high school, if they get that far, and hang out in their parents house till they are boxed into a sales associate job with no way out. 

Usually, Scott would stick his nose up at them. But he stopped and stared for a moment. It was longer than he would like to because they started to notice. A few blatantly stared back, challenging the athlete to try something. The others didn’t bother taking in the cool morning before they were stuffed into the school. Scott grew a pair and decided to walk up to them. He was skittish but walked with his head held high. Everyone drew their attention towards him. Each masking their faces into something passive and filled with disdain. The status quo was in place to keep interactions like this to a minimum. 

Scott cast a glance over his shoulder one last time before reaching the group. “Hey guys,” He breathed out grasping onto the straps of his bookbag. A girl rolled her eyes looking away from him. 

“What’s up?” Luke had a cigarette hanging from his chapped lips. His eyes were dead, and it terrified Scott. He shifted his footing leaning away from them. Luke’s dirty blonde hair fell along his brow, unkempt, hiding away his blue eyes. 

“Nothing! Just wanted to hang with you guys. You guys seem so- cool,” Scott smiled brightly at the group. One of the girls leaned forward in her seat clutching the edge of the building.

“The coolest,” The annoyance dripped from her toxic lips. No one wanted to be there. His eyes shifted back towards the path to class. It was always an option- to take off and run. He had no business messing with this crew. There was a linger of silence that floated above their heads with the smoke. A ghost peering at them with piqued interest. 

“You want a smoke?” Luke offered pulling out a carton of Marlboro Menthols. The box was a bright green, pretty to look at. Scott shook his head as he toed the dirt.

“Fuck this guy. He’s taking the piss at us,” Someone grabbed their knapsack. They pressed the butt of the cigarette into the school. They pushed past Scott making sure he stumbled out of the way.  Scott was at a loss for words. The rest gathered their things ready to take off. Scott overstayed his welcome and didn’t join in. He wasn’t them, and he wouldn’t be them. Luke eyes narrowed as he walked past Scott. They left him alone with the finished cigarettes and stench of smoke on his clothes. 

He didn’t know how to go about asking them. In the movies it was easy, just ask. The dealers were shifty pressed against a wall. They oozed intense intimidation but they knew how to charm their way into someone’s pockets. None of them could begin to be the way Scott envisioned it in a movie. These were kids from a teen angst drama and Scott was the asshole because he played sports. It was a sign, Scott figured. If he couldn’t easily get Adderall what was the point in trying. It wasn’t good for him anyways. It was a probably a terrible stimulant and would ruin his body.

It was better than steroids, and he was never touching that. At least he would be able to get his work done. Scott could take in more information and work better under stressful situations. He would be superhuman. Scott settled into his first class imagining what a big A would look like on his tests. The only thing marked red was the grade. It would get him into a good university with a full scholarship. No one would be the wiser of his enlightenment. When he was old, successful, and living with a beautiful it would all because he took a risk. It was all planned out in his mind. He just had to do it, and man up. 

The teacher stared at the incoming students piling into their seats. No one was excited to be in class. A few quietly congratulated Scott on the win. Everyone wanted to be a part of the winning team. Scott nodded his head as he set his eyes on the clock. Finally, the teacher cleared his voice. He was starting another tedious day of classes. His introduction cut short by a soft knock on the door. 

A girl walked in clutching a textbook against her chest. She craned her neck to look at the teacher. “You must be Allison Argent,” their teacher mumbled shuffling through the mass of papers on his desk. She nodded her head turning to look at the board. It had the day’s objective written out. 

“Ah here you are!” He eyed the textbook smiling approvingly, “Go find a seat,” He ushered her. Alison finally had turned to face the crowd of students. She was a fair beauty. Her dark brown hair was wavy as it draped against her face. Her lips were rounded and an icy pink from lipgloss. Scott couldn’t see her eyes but they were a nice chocolate brown.  She settled into the seat right in front of Scott. Her book bag pressed against the back of her seat. Alison had a baby yellow floral dress with black flats, she looked like spring. 

Scott wanted to say hi as he reached forward ready to tap her shoulder. However, the teacher began giving him a warning glance. Scott settled back in his seat playing with the pen. He flicked the cap against his thumb, stuck listening to the teacher. How could he pay attention now? Scott contemplated talking to her after class. If he could get her after class. Scott didn’t need to, her pen dropped. 

He was quick on the draw, scrambling to get her pen for her. He held it out for her. Alison finally looked at him, she smiled sweetly. “Hey I’m Scott,” He whispered. 

“Alison,” She replied taking the pen back from Scott. She lingered looking at Scott before turning back to her notebook. It was the start of a good day. Yet, the lecture dragged on and on. Someone was playing a terrible trick on him. They weren’t letting class end, and he would never be able to talk to her. They would be stuck in science purgatory. The bell finally rang after 3 minutes of unequivocal frustration. 

The class was in a hurry to get out of class. It was a madhouse towards the door. Alison wasn’t racing to bolt out, but she wasn’t dawdling. Scott slipped his doodled notebook into his bookbag. “Hey, Alison right?” Scott asked peeking up from his bag. 

“Yeah,” She smiled sweetly, “Scott right?” Alison threw her knapsack over her shoulder. Scott was quick to keep up. He nodded as he rushed to hold the door open for her. 

“How are you liking the school so far?” Scott wondered. The hallway was abuzz, people more alert and ready to socialize. It was louder than before, but they were able to move down the hall. 

“It’s nice. It’s hard to say because it’s my first class but I like it. Is this a good school?” She wondered falling in line with him. 

“Yeah it’s a little boring but I can’t complain. Where did you live before this?” Scott asked. 

“Oh! It was a small town in North Dakota. We were close to the border of Canada. It wasn’t anything special, but it was nice.” A few jokes were whooping down the hall. The new high of a win rushing through the crowds once more. If Scott’s teammates had anything to do about it, the school would be bowing to their amazing game. They rushed towards Scott ruffling his hair. 

“Let’s go McCall! No one’s touching us this semester! Whoo! We’re kicking the Panthers ass!” The hollered before taking off down the hall to annoy another teammate. Scott grunted in an attempt to smooth the unkept locks. 

“So your McCall?” She wondered trying to refrain from giggling at a piece of hair stuck up straight. 

“Don’t laugh!” He grinned, “Yeah I am, why?” 

“I’m not, I’m not! Hold on one second. You got a-” Alison pulled him to a stop, pushing his head down. Alison began twisting the hair down and locking it down before it stuck up again. “I saw you play on Friday, you were really good,” She smiled, “There!” 

Scott grinned at her, “Yeah? I’m glad you liked it. We have another game coming up, you should go to that one too.” 

The school bell rung signalling the kids to get into their assigned classroom. Alison looked at everyone scattering till they were the only ones in the halls. “Maybe, it’s a maybe,” She agreed smiling brightly, “I have to go but I’ll see you around?” 

Scott nodded as Alison took off down the halls trying to find her next class. The next few classes blurred together. There wasn’t much to think about, there was Alison and she eclipsed everything else. He couldn’t get her off his mind. No matter what he did his mind returned to her. It was the first girl in a long time that sent his heart aflutter. Most of the girls in his school knew him already. There was no mystery and that meant he needed more than his charm for the girls. They knew his looks, what he was like, if he magically pulled money out of thin air maybe that would send them looking his way. 

By the second class that he dazed out in, he realized he had accomplished nothing. It only stressed him out further as he attempted to play catch up. It was no use and it meant getting the notes from someone else. It would be fruitless endeavor. He wasn’t going to make it if his thoughts continued to cloud. Scott needed to man up. If he could get out of his bind things would run smoother than they had been. 

The bell run signalling them for lunch. Beacon Hills High was a small town with a decent class size. They let out for lunch at the same time. There was no point to separate the periods up. A good handful of students would skip class to spend time with their friends. Scott was stuffing his books into his locker. “Hey Scotty!” Stiles grinned leaning against the nearby locker. Stiles was chippier, with deep circles under his eyes. 

“Hey, how was your day so far?” Scott asked fist bumping his friend. Stiles blew out a puff of air recounting everything that happened. It was a play-by-play in case anything was important to his best friend. After the same chatter day in and out Scott had resorted to nodding along. He cared, of course he did it was his best friend. If Stiles told him how he folded his paper, Scott would humbly listen. He realized a long time ago it was easier to nod along than spark up a conversation about Stiles day. The questions would twist into an interrogation and the two would be left on either side of the coin confused. 

“-Mr.Rudders is insane I’m telling you. He absolutely sucks, what’s with a paper two weeks in. He says it’s to prepare us for college but do I look like a college student? If wanted to be like a college student I would be in college. He’s just trying to annoy me. The best part is he’s new! He came in last week and has this whole thing planned out. He’s freakin’ creepy too! Like he keeps staring. I think he’s not even aware he’s doing it but he’s just staring.” Stiles rattled on as they walked to the cafeteria, “Then did you see Isaac? I saw him this morning, he has a huge black eye. I tried asking him about it but he didn’t want to say. I’m pretty sure he’s in a fight club. I mean who gets a knock like that? But he called me a pain in the ass but he’s the one who's a pain. I’m a nice guys, aren’t I a nice guy?” 

Scott settled into his usual seat, pulling out his lunch for the day. Stiles sat next to him pulling out a small can of Redbull along with a few snacks he tucked away. “C’mon! You’re going to be jumping off the walls,” Scott plucked the Red Bull away from him. “So let me get this straight. Isaac has a black eye and you think he’s in a fight club?” Scott shook his head as he took a bite from his sandwich. Stiles hummed out in agreement popping some chips into his mouth. 

“Yup! Makes sense why he has a stick up his ass too,” Stiles raised a brow, “That or he has an actual stick up there.” 

As if on cue, Isaac begrudgingly sat down across from the duo. He kept his hood up and head low. The tray was littered with food. Isaac was quiet, barely acknowledging their presence. The cafeteria filled the silence between the trio, but it was obvious. The air was thick, and Scott shoulders were around his chin. Stiles had snatch the Red Bull back from Scott’s side drinking it in earnest. The greasy smell of Isaac’s mac n’ cheese had pulled Scott from his own reverie. Stiles nudged his head towards Isaac trying to get Scott to peek at the bruise. 

Before Scott could get a good look at it. Stiles all but yelled it out, “Does your eye hurt with a bruise?” 

The veins in Isaac’s neck nearly popped out, as he grinded his teeth. “C’mere and let me show you,” Isaac’s head looked up and Scott was able to get a real look at it. The bruise covered his cheekbone and under his eye. The swelling had reduced tremendously from what it must had been. It was swollen around his boneline. The worst of it was a red purple that veined along the capillaries that were struck. Its entirety was dark purple with the lining a discolored yellow. It was a nasty bruise, thankfully missing his entire eye. 

Scott wasn’t sure if it was a fight club. He had never seen the movie, but he understood the basics of fighting. Which was never attack important organs or the face. Scott assumed Isaac was punched but why was another question entirely. Best case scenario that he was jumped, a random opportunist attack. That could be a one off situation. Something told Scott in the back of his head it wasn’t that. 

“Ignore him he’s on a caffeine high,” Scott muttered. 

“If you try to ignore me Scotty I will tickle you,” Stiles warned him, “But I have a good reason. A great reason! So I have come up with an answer to our supernatural weirdness. It was a great weekend and productive as well. So I went to a sto-Isaac when’s your birthday?” Stiles nearly shoved his index finger into Isaac’s face. His finger swiveled about trying to flick Isaac’s nose. 

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Isaac leaned back clutching to the edge of the table from toppling over. “It’s Halloween,” He grumbled slapping Stiles hand away. That was new. Scott thought it was weird that Stiles shared the same birthday as him, but all three? It wasn’t a long shot if he sat down thinking it through. His math teacher showed his class a neat trick where in a room of thirty people there was a pair of birthdays. At least two people will share the same birthday sans the year. In a school like Beacon Hills there had to be numerous pairs. If only he paid attention to his elementary school when they called out everyone’s birthday. 

“So he was right! I went to this store, this guy Deaton explained what we were. Drum roll please-” Stiles provided his own acoustic drumming, “-We’re witches! Who are from a prophecy some witch wrote a long time ago,” Stiles hands shot up in the air elated that he could reveal his findings. 

There was a round of silence as Scott looked at Isaac. Scott wondered if Isaac was thinking Stiles was just as insane as he seemed. Which was most likely the case with him. The two unsure of what to make of it. Instead Scott shook his head taking another bite from his food. He decided he wasn’t going to humor Stiles insanity for a lunch period. Stiles shifted in his seat, and when he didn’t get the reaction he wanted he sunk low in his seat. It was absurd to believe in witchcraft. The thing wasn’t real if it was everyone would be popping off powers left and right. If there was such thing as witches they would be burned at the stake. On top of that, aren’t witches supposed to be girls? Unless Scott undergo a sex change he definitely wasn’t a girl. 

The trio sat in silence unsure where to tread next. Stiles was working up the courage to tell them more. He was practically on the edge of his seat brimming with knowledge to share. There was a clear jitter in his movements as he ate his lunch. His hands quaked to the point he was missing his mouth. “Did you get any sleep?” Scott finally asked.

“Not really. I’ve been researching and looking all this stuff up. Grams book has so much in it and this guy gave me books to read up on,” Stiles unzipped his bookbag pulling out a white book with light green spine. It had a pentagram on the front cover with different symbols blending into the background. Isaac snorted pulling the book towards him. He flipped through the pages. They were in normal font with some words standing out with fancier script. 

“You’ve been reading up on a book called-” Isaac closed the book, trying to retain his laughter, “-The Handbook Guide to Being a Witch? You’re joking right?” Stiles snatched the book back from Isaac. 

“Noo! There’s lies in truth, or something like that.” Stiles grunted flipping through the pages. 

“Lies in Truth?” Isaac started to crackle, his head fell back. Scott’s apprehension evaporated. It all sounded like insanity, but harmless ones at that. Stiles clearly didn’t struck gold. He was floating around with fantasy and things to make sense in his mind about it. Isaac clasped his hand over his mouth trying to stifle his laughter. 

“Shut up! What I mean it's the real deal, the guy says so!” Stiles tucked the book back into his bag. He was trying to cover up the humiliation. Isaac’s laugh quieted it down to a soft chuckle, and finally he was calm. 

“If I told you to jump off a bridge would you do it?” Isaac wondered another smirk played on his lips. Underneath the table, Stiles hands clenched into fists. It would have been easy to give Isaac another black eye. 

“Alright, shut up both of you!” Scott pressed his hand over Stiles trying to release the tense fist. Both of the boys were on the verge of getting into a fight. Isaac was beaming from ear to ear despite being told to stop. It was clear there was a twinkle in his blue eyes as he looked at a fuming Stiles. The buzz that had Stiles bouncing had quieted it down. It was being directed like a current to focus on Isaac hoping to waste the excess energy on him. 

“Is this a bad time?” Alison wondered clutching a tray of food. She had looked at the two boys ready to jump over the table to fight each other. Alison nibbled on her bottom lip looking at the empty seat next to Isaac unsure.

“No no! I’m glad you came!” Scott exclaimed nearly jumping out of his seat clearing away any trash scattered about. Alison sat her tray down, tucking her dress under her as she sat with the three boys. It was a bath of color and light joining the table. Alison’s waved her hand slightly at the two boys. 

“Hey I’m Alison, I’m new,” She introduced herself. It was soft like wilting flower. Stiles blinked at her for a moment. He looked like he hadn’t seen a female in a long time. The thrum of energy was quickly back into his muscles. He shakily thrusted his hand at her to take. 

“Stiles,” He replied, “You know my best friend?” He nodded his head towards Scott. It was like on the playground all over again. Stiles staking his claim into Scott. It had to be announced, a declaration, that Scott would always be Stiles friend. It was humiliating, but Scott tolerated it. Stiles had never did it with the purpose to cause harm. 

Alison leaned up to shake his hand. She was delicate, careful to keep her dress down between her legs. She smelt like roses and honeysuckles mixed with sunshine. Scott didn’t know what sunshine was, but it was her. She was perfection even with the shy glances towards Scott like he didn’t notice. He almost didn’t notice the looming figure near her. Isaac was quiet keeping his head down. 

There was clattering from Isaac’s tray as he chased his food around the pocket, casually stabbing at things. “This is Isaac,” Scott introduced for him. Isaac gave a quick nod twisting his head to look at the cafeteria door. Alison gave a quick nod as she picked at her salad. “He’s just a shy guy,” Scott waved it off. Isaac’s shoulders stiffened pressed back before hunching forward. 

“I get that. I’m pretty shy myself. So I think I’ve literally gotten lost every time I had to change classes. One of my teachers was annoyed with me. I thought I was going to die,” Alison laughed as she pressed her hand into head, “I hate starting new schools.”

“You move around a lot?” Stiles perked up.

Alison’s eyes went wide, for a moment, realizing what she had said. She sat up straighter, nodding her head. “Yeah uhm my family doesn’t stay in one place too long. I hope I can finish out the year here,” She explained. Scott knew it there was always a catch to meeting a girl like her. There was never just normalcy, but it mounts to the fact his dream girl has to be elusive in some way to him. 

“That sucks,” Scott breathes out, “While you’re here, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. Beacon Hills doesn’t have a lot of things happening, but there are a lot of fun places around.” 

“I knew a guy and his family worked in the peace corp. His family constantly moved around bringing peace to the world,” Stiles moved his hands around. His hands flew about like noodles, occasionally smacking Scott in his arm. “He said it was cool but it sucked. Is that what your parents are?” 

For a moment Alison was quiet. She took a bite out of her salad, and a sip from her drink. “Uhm yeah something like that,” She stated. Alison wasn’t that eager to tell her whole story. “Hey I was thinking about what you said about the game coming up. I think I’ll go, but it depends on when.” 

Stiles was happy for his friend as he nudged Scott’s leg. It was the first time in awhile since Scott had a crush on someone. The last girl had been in 6th grade and she was a transfer student. It didn’t last long because in the next month she left to go to a private school a few blocks over. Scott had tried to get her to talk to him, but she found new friends. Most of which didn’t care much for him. Stiles was the one who spent the next three weeks consoling his friend with video games and terrible movies. 

Stiles body felt like a pepsi shaken with twenty mentos stirring within him. Everything felt different with the familiar pull from his belly. His stomach swirled and flipped backwards but urged him to lay his head down. Stiles already knew that if he laid down, no matter if he had ten energy drinks, he would pass out. He could easily succumb to a deep slumber for a good twenty-four hours. He twisted his body away from Scott towards Isaac. 

The hood draped over Isaac’s face did nothing to help him shield the bruise. The bright spots of purple stuck out. He wondered if it hurt, partly wanting to press his thumb into Isaac’s cheek bone to see if it was broken underneath. He doubted it, no one even received a broken cheekbone. Isaac eyes shifted from the food he was smashing around with his fork to the junction of his elbow. Isaac body was hunched so far left he was nearly in the next seat. Isaac finally looked up catching Stiles gaze. 

It was hard to look past Isaac with the bruise, but Stiles managed. It was like a boob, don’t look at it. All he had to do was look him in the eye, but his eye was the boob. Stiles eye widen with an ever growing grin from across the table. It was just the two of them with an invisible wall separating them from the flirty duo. Maybe the two could become friendly, or at least civil. 

Isaac huffed, quickly grabbing his things, and rushed out the cafeteria doors. Maybe being friends with Isaac was a reach. Isaac didn’t bother looking back at the table as he stormed out leaving everyone confused. Scott quickly smoothed it over with Alison that he had to talk to a teacher about something pulling her back into a steady stream of conversation. They subjected the rambunctious Stiles to reading as he devoured one chip bag after another. Until the roof of his mouth felt raw and in constant need of water. 


	6. Chapter 6

The week had dragged on by. Everyone absorbed in their own worlds. Scott had kept glancing over the crowd of burnouts. It was a tempting offer, but it didn’t sit right. His mom would be disappointed in him. Melissa McCall was everything but disappointed in her son. She worked overtime trying to make enough money to support Scott, and his eventual college tuition. No matter how much Scott persuaded her to stop, take a moment to take care of herself. Melissa would shake her head making her way out to the car for work. Whenever his mom was around she would make him lunch. This time she had wrote a little sticky note on his sandwich. 

A hand clasped Scott’s shoulder jarring him from his thoughts. “Scott! Whatcha doing?” Stiles wondered peering his shoulder at the note. Stiles muttered the note out loud, “Remember to keep your chin up. Love, Mom. Awww! Tell Mrs.McCall to write me a note next time!” Stiles smacked Scott’s shoulder. 

“My mom would but it wouldn’t be nice. You get under her skin,” Scott stated tucking the note into the back recesses of his locker. 

“Nah she loves me. I’m her favorite child! Okay so you know how the History teacher did detention? Yeah well he has apparently disappeared. My dad had to file it this morning. So the new Science teacher is taking over,” Stiles rattled off resting against the lockers. 

“What happened to him?” Scott’s brows furrowed.

“Dunno, I tried asking dad but he told me to get off the radio. He thinks he ran away. I say he was kidnapped or something. I mean who just ups and leaves?” Stiles had begun thinking of all the conspiracy theories associated with the guy. The history teacher was one of many. Stiles never had him until detention, but the guy seemed well put together. 

“Why couldn’t he have ran away?” Scott shut his locker getting ready to go to his first class. 

“Because only people who have things to hide, run. The guy taught American History. What the hell did he have to hide? The Declaration of Indepence? But either way it sucks. The new science teacher is weird. He stares at me a lot. At first I thought it was just him spacing out but he’s flat out staring.” Stiles gestured to Scott showing him the look. It was a flat affect face with squinty eyes. 

“Okay firstly teachers have things to hide too. Secondly, maybe he likes you? You can get an easy A if you drop a pencil,” Scott suggested. Stiles hands flung up nearly smacking Scott in the head. He had gotten use to Stiles outburst, dodging the hands with new easier efficiency. The two nearly ran into Allison. She was talking and laughing with some girl. Quickly, Scott grabbed Stiles arms pinning them to his sides, “Stop it!” 

“Wha-Why? What are we looking at? Where are we going!?” Stiles wailed being led around the corner away from the stairs leading to his classroom. Scott peered around the corner watching Allison gathering her books. She looked like pure sunshine. Stiles peered his head around the corner looking at Allison. “Scotty, go talk to her! Ask her out!” 

“I can’t,” Scott stressed turning away from the corner. 

“Why not? It’s better to ask now before someone better comes along,” Stiles figured. Scott glared at Stiles, “Or! Or not better, definitely not better.” Stiles peered around the corner glancing at her once more. “So why can’t you?”

“Because,” Scott stated, combing his fingers through his hair. 

“That’s not an answer,” Stiles turned back around the corner to look at Scott better. 

“I’m not that cool or hot. She will just laugh at me, I can’t do it,” Scott rubbed his forehead. It was sad that Scott couldn’t do much else but overthink the outcomes with a girl. Everyone looked past Scott and went towards the other lacrosse players. No one saw how sweet Scott truly was. Stiles sighed as he hooked his arm around Scott guiding him around the corner. 

“Fine, you can’t. So let’s head to class and you can mope around all day,” Stiles concluded. The two boys neared Allison’s locker. Stiles pushed Scott towards the lockers, taking off down the hall before Scott had a chance to chase him down. He sped around the corner, stopping to glance back. Sure enough, Scott was stammering over his words. He looked flustered with a bashful demeanor.

 

Scott’s shoulder slammed into the grates of the lockers, the metal scratched at his skin. The loud clatter startled his ears, Allison tried to refrain from a laugh. The fast patter of Stiles footsteps faded as he turned the next corner. Allison tried tucking her hair behind her ear, the short bangs struggled to stay put. 

“Are you okay? Why did Stiles- does that happen often?” Allison thumbed at the hallway behind her. 

Quickly Scott straightened up, his eyes wide. Scott’s eyes widen to the size of saucers. He had expected her to not question Stiles antics, and possibly leave the scene with some dignity. “Uhh Stiles is a character,” He tossed it off to the wayside. He couldn’t begin to scratch the surface as to what made Stiles quirky. “But I wanted to ask you something!”

Allison stood patient clutching her books against her chest. The world seemed to fade away, but the students felt like prying ears. Nothing within the school remained a secret. Everyone had dirt on the next person, and it continued to build until people like Lydia Martin held all the knowledge. Scott already knew people would know what had happened, and if not be okay with filling in the gaps. 

“Well… I’m struggling with like Science. I was uhm, you know I think it’s not a big deal, ya know?” Scott stammered brows rose high. Allison had no idea what he was talking about. It was clear as she nodded slowly trying to urge him to go on. 

The bell rung to the start of classes. Allison stayed still, her foot softly tapping against the lineolim. “Are you needing someone to help tutor you?” She asked, brows knitted with uncertain. Scott quickly nodded his head. At least one person could concoct a perfect sentence. “Alright! I can help you. Hmm, are you free on Thursday? We can go to the diner and study there.” Allison slinked backwards starting to make her way to their first class. Scott was in tow, it wasn’t a date but it was as close as he could get. 

\------

The day was uneventful and had Stiles crammed into his Jeep with McDonald wrapper strewn about. Lacrosse practice was almost over, Stiles couldn’t go to practice because of detention. While he had another twenty minutes to kill he decided to spend it reading. The newest book he had gotten from Deaton was about lore. A lot of it had historical significance, but stuck between pages that seemed inaccurate. The witches that wrote in the journal feared persecution. They constantly wrote about how they did things in secret. 

The one who prophesied about them, Melinda, was the main writer. The book wasn’t Deaton’s huge leatherbound monstrosity. This was a pocket version, card stock paper and cardboard paper. Deaton had been nice enough to share some pages with Stiles. A lot of things didn’t make sense to Stiles. One of which being how different all three of them were. Scott had hispanic heritage, Isaac had a mixture mostly being from British descent, and Stiles was mixed prominently Russian. Neither one of them had the same ethnicity, but yet they were clumped together. Stiles tried to see what made them connected, other than their birthdays, but came up short. 

Then there was constant talk about the Nemeton. Stiles thought it was a well, a fountain of youth. All the witches touched upon being to The Nemeton at least once. They brought presents to it, prayed, and cared for it like if it was their child. The weirdest one Stiles had read was someone having near it. The Nemeton was in Ireland, a land that may have been a part of Isaac’s past, but definitely not Scott’s. However, books stated it wasn’t that. It was tied with druids.

As he read his mind casually listened into the police radio in his car. The volume was low, but everyone’s voice was low. The radio crackled and gave more emphasis on certain letters. It was relaxing, and gave him peace in mind that he could know where his dad was. Stiles ears perked up whenever his dad was mentioned. Though the radio had became silent except for the low crackly white noise. Stiles was absorbed into the text, checking it over with his tiny laptop. 

_ “Stilinski we have an incident. Come in Stilinski, we have a woman claiming to have found a couple murdered near the forest reserve. I repeat, couple may have been murdered by the Forest Preserve.”  _ The woman over the radio spoke. Stiles lifted his head, attention was drawn away from the books. 

This had to be like fifth death in a matter of three weeks. Barely, anyone died in Beacon Hills. Definitely not from murder, but they were springing up like wildfire. His dad was doing a good job keeping it underwraps. But it was going to make the papers soon, people were dying too quickly. Stiles couldn’t speak about it with his dad. Whenever his dad got home, he looked drained. The sheriff had dark circles under his eyes, clutching a beer in his hand before sprawling out on the couch. Stiles listened to his father staticky reply through the radio before it turned back to white noise. 

The loud creak from his backdoor startled Stiles, twisting his head to see a freshly showered Scott. He had a lopsided grin as he climbed into the passenger seat. Scott grabbed the open books. He was quiet reading an excerpt from a Celtic mythology book. It was all about Nemeta or the Nemeton in general. Scott’s brows furrowed slipping an old gum wrapper to mark the spot. Always being considerate. 

“What’s all this?” He motioned to the other book that leaned against the steering wheel and the notebook with scribbles and notes. Stiles popped the pen cap out of his lips. 

“It’s about The Nemeton,” Stiles started gathering his things and placed them gingerly in the backseat. 

“I gathered that much, what is it though?” Scott questioned buckling up as they pulled out of the fairly empty parking lot. 

Stiles was careful getting onto the roads leading back towards Scott’s house. They were busy with migrant workers rushing back home. Each one of them were fueled with road rage that would push a car into the woodland ditches. “I’ve been reading these journals Deaton gave me,” Stiles began. Scott’s brows knitted in the usual worry that accompanied Deaton’s name. “Basically what I’m gathering in Celtic history or mythology. Druids had these places to do rituals and it was a shrine. Different places say different things. But it says it’s a tree that people worship.”

Scott nodded his head, “So you’re a druid now?” 

Stiles groaned shaking his head vehemently, “No! I’m a witch, and paganism is like a branch of that.” Stiles took a moment to gather his thoughts before he spilled anything that would freak Scott out. “Okay so think about it as a religion, which it is by the way.”

Scott was uncertain, his eyes trained out the window. He slowly nodded his head, he had to ask a question. Scott pressed against the door of the car. 

“Now imagine Christianity. It’s like an umbrella term for Catholicism, Orthodox, ummm other things. Now Paganism is the umbrella term for this. You have pagans, wiccans, druids, and a whole slew of things. I guess I would be a wiccan, but we take pieces and choose what to believe. Just like Christianity. Some believe in gods, others believe in angels, others don’t believe in Jesus. It’s all relative to what you want to believe,” Stiles explained. 

Scott let out an audible sigh rubbing his forehead, “So there’s a we now?” Scott couldn’t believe his ears anymore. It had been two weeks of Stiles investing himself into the occult. Everywhere he looked, Stiles was devoting his time into something that was utterly dangerous. There was reports of cults, people doing crazy things. Only to summon a demonic entity that could wipe out an entire family. Meanwhile, it was all fun and games till someone got hurt. 

“Yeah...All three of us,” Stiles voice was weak as he peered over the distraught Scott.

“There’s no we in this. I’m not a witch and I’m not summoning a crazy demon to kill us.” Scott pulled his phone out hovering over Isaac’s number. He contemplated bringing him into the situation. At least, Scott would have an ally to help him deal with Stiles. Isaac seemed sane, but he also enabled Stiles to even read the spell in the first place. Scott dejectedly tucked his phone away. He wasn’t going to make things worse. 

There was no getting through to Scott. He was stubborn as a mule. Stiles wanted to wring him dry, and make him see the light. It wasn’t that hard to assume they could be something special, it was better than living mundane lives. Stiles could create spells to make Lydia love him, infinite amount of money, and just be able to do cool things. Stiles pulled up to Scott’s house. Scott’s broken motorbike sat in front of the garage chained up to the iron fence that caged his bushes in. “Do you want to come in? There’s a Marvel marathon on one of the channels,” Scott grinned. Stiles shook his head, he had felt weary. The exuberant personality faded into a somber one. 

“Nah I want to talk to Deaton about something,” Stiles motioned for Scott to go, “But tape it. We can watch it over the weekend,” He assured Scott. 

\-------

 

Isaac never viewed his life as a happy one. It was riddled with pain and heartbreak. To the point that people wondered how Isaac was still standing. There wasn’t a day that went by he wasn’t in some sort of pain. His father either ridiculed him or wailed on him. Everyday was another part of Isaac’s armor chipped away. The silver shield was just paint, it was completely iron underneath it all. It was okay, Isaac was told it would make him stronger. As long as he didn’t break down. 

It wasn’t always like this for Isaac. His house used to be filled with love. It sometimes hurt with how much love there was in his house. Isaac’s mom would make breakfast in the morning before walking Isaac to school. It smelt like vanilla doused with sugar cookie scents. His mom baked a lot, it was how she relieved stress. She was a stay at home mom and showed up to his older brother’s games. The family was wholesome, and his dad worked in a high school. There were papers strewn about with various names printed above. It was stressful, but his dad enjoyed what he did. He would tell Isaac he was making a difference in someone’s life. 

Except when it came to Isaac’s he couldn’t do that. Once his mom and his older brother died, all he could do was drink. Isaac tried to gather his toys and give them to his dad to hold. Isaac’s eyes shut tighter as he tried hunkering over his work. Flashbacks were a constant thing, but living in hell meant they were good. The most painful memories because Isaac couldn’t get it back. He shook his head, shutting his eyes tight enough till it hurt. It was too silent inside the library for his liking. 

Isaac couldn’t be left alone to his own devices. Whenever he was given his mind a chance to wander, it sent him spiraling. Every memory clearly painted with beautiful brush strokes to the tune of different colors. It felt completely real, but the thoughts reminded him how tainted he felt. Some of the thoughts were his own or his fathers. It became a constant reminder that he couldn’t get those things back because he was to blame. He was to blame because if he had done better things would have been different. Isaac believed he was the cause of it all, a butterfly effect that trickled to half of his family’s death. 

He scooted back in his chair gathering all the books laid across the table. He couldn’t be bothered to finish his homework. There was no point if every sentence ended in horrendous memories. Isaac began to stuff them into his ratty bookbag. The grey bag had dark stains, a hole on the right side near the zipper. 

“Isaac right?” A voice perked up. Isaac’s eyes drifted staring at Allison lithe frame. She sat her bag down on the table. “I saw you had Health class before me, are you doing the homework?” She motioned towards the different books referencing STD’s. When she got no response. Allison took one of the books trying to see the title. “Uhm did you want to do it together? Two heads are better than one.” 

Allison’s question made Isaac frazzled as he shoved his things his things into his bag pushing away a plastic bag bunched into a corner of his bag. “No,” He replied, glaring at her. Allison’s smile faded as she slid the book back over to him to grab. Isaac recoiled leaving the book on the table, he didn’t need it. Isaac bolted from the library. Allison did nothing to Isaac but she was a thorn in his side. She was needy, and in constant need of attention like Scott wasn’t giving her enough of it. The past week, Isaac had been avoiding all of them at lunch. It was easier to hunker down at another seat away from the heart eyes and Stiles incessant talking. When Scott was there to buffer Stiles chatter it was manageable, but he was too invested in Allison to notice that Isaac was dying. 

Isaac kept his head down as he briskly walked past people along the paved sidewalks. People underestimated how nice a sidewalk was when it was paved properly. There wasn’t any cracks or weeds sprouting up. It made walking easier. Isaac shouldered a guy causing him to spin around. The guy’s arm was bony and it hurt. 

“Watch where you’re going!” Isaac shouted ready to shove the guy further back.

“Make me,” The guy laughed, he was smug. Isaac watched as the boy’s eyes blatantly checked him out. There wasn’t much to see, Isaac was a tall lanky figure. His eye had mostly recovered with spotty yellow discoloration in places. It wasn’t that the guy was checking him out that bothered Isaac. It was that he didn’t see what was the big deal, there was nothing to see. 

“Go fuck yourself,” Isaac snarled back trying to bite back. He wasn’t crumbling beneath the boy stares. Just because someone showed him some thinly gay interest he suddenly wasn’t going to melt. For one thing, Isaac wasn’t gay, and he wasn’t remotely interested in anyone. Isaac stormed off in the opposite direction trying to get home and away from the boy. Isaac could feel his eyes follow him until he was out of sight. 

If Isaac took the time to truly think about it, the guy was the first person to notice him in that way. No one really looked at him other than to look at his bruises. They just knew something wasn’t right and they stayed away. He hated that the first person to look at him was a guy, but it was all he was going to get. He couldn’t magically make a girl check him out. He never had an actual interest in anyone either, so there was no point in complaining. Isaac was consumed with appeasing his dad and avoiding another beating. He had no time to consider dating anyone, and so his drive for dating was nonexistent. He barely touched himself because it physically hurt some days and the pain wasn’t boner inducing. 

By the time Isaac got home he was a walking bundle of anger. His dad was perched on the couch with few beers pressed against the couch. He absolutely reeked as he stared glassy eyed at the television. Nothing could be on and his dad would have been content in that state. Isaac walked on by him towards the stairs that were by the kitchen to head into his room. Strewn about the dining room table were different papers. Isaac peered over swallowing thickly. His dad was going to start teaching and coaching at Beacon Hills High. 

His fist clenched storming up to his room. Isaac knew there was a reason Isaac was being forced to take over the graveyard for his dad. He thought he being a lazy bastard, but no he was going to work in Beacon Hills High. Isaac threw his bag across the room letting it bang and clatter to the floor. School was the one place Isaac felt safe, he was able to breathe for a few hours. Now he would have to walk on eggshells, watch his dad associate with his teachers and gaining friends. He didn’t deserve a friendship or anything for that matter. He should’ve stayed working at the graveyard the only friends he could make was the dead. Isaac pressed his heel of his palm into his eyes. Just two more years and he was free from his dad, he told himself. The only thing that brought him reprieve from his dad. Isaac had spoken too soon as his dad was barreling up the stairs in the next minute. The bookbag against the wall awoke the beast. Isaac wasn’t going to cry, he stiffened his upper life, he can be a man. 

No one was able to hear Isaac’s cries because he learned it was easier to be quiet. Right under the bushes of his house stood the boy. He peered up at Isaac’s window watching everything through nearly transparent curtains. A devilish smirk spread over his features before slinking back into the woods. 


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles was excited it was his last day of detention, and then he would be free. To do what? He hadn’t the slightest idea. Stiles was contemplating backing out of Lacrosse, he wasn’t good at it. Plus instead of doing other things with his time he was spending it warming the bench, but he was the best bench warmer anyone had seen. Stiles was shocked to see Isaac in class. He hadn’t seen Isaac at lunch, but he knew the boy was in around. Stiles had seen him in class rows away from him, it was mandated by the teacher. He sat down next to Isaac trying to think of the right thing to say. The two were on acquaintance terms which meant as long as they stayed out of each other's way they were fine. Neither one of them said sorry, and chose to forget about the situation. It was hard when they were still paying the consequences, but today was the last day. 

Then maybe they could be friends, but he doubted it. Isaac anger radiated off of him like a heat wave. Mostly, from what Stiles could see, it was directed at everyone but he would still get the brunt of it. Meanwhile, Scott seemed to get a watered down, docile version of Isaac. If wasn’t fair, Scott just emitted good vibes and everyone crumbled under him. Stiles wanted that and they were fine the one sleepover. Granted, he didn’t remember much, but Isaac was on his side so it was a plus. “I haven’t seen you in lunch, what’s the deal?” Stiles asked brows furrowing. Isaac lifted his head slowly, he was close to passing out. 

As if on cue the teacher walked not carrying his usual papers or briefcases. The door slammed shut behind him startling Isaac who sat up straighter, but it was evident he wanted to be anywhere but there. The clock ticked as the teacher stared at the two of them, trying to gauge the boys. It was unnerving for Stiles as he sunk lower in his seat. Stiles couldn’t wait for the other students to roll in and break the staring contest the teacher was having with them. The teacher lurched forward catching himself on the desk. His movements were jerky, rolling his shoulders back as a series of pops centered the shoulder back into place. 

“Looks like its just the two of you,” The teacher noted cracking his neck as well. Did everything in his body just naturally pop like that, Stiles grumbled. The teacher continued to tether himself to the desk as his movements rocked slowly. 

Stiles had to look over at Isaac making sure he was seeing the same thing. The professor looked like he had a strong case of vertigo as he rocked. His smile broadened till Stiles could make out his teeth. His eyes never faltered from staring down the two boys. He didn’t know where the other students were but they were lucky. Stiles was on edge for the rest of detention. At one point the teacher stopped smiling, he just stared at the two, mentally picking them apart. Once the clock struck four, Stiles was out of his seat. Isaac even quicker already making a b-line for the door. Stiles took the door handle-

_ The halls were empty. It was silent. Nothing. Then there was Isaac, he was running. Quick, he needed to be quicker. Stiles was right behind him. He needed to be quicker. Fire. They will burn. Run.  _

A nauseating feeling washed over Stiles, he couldn’t breathe but his legs were thrumming. Isaac was behind Stiles, huffing, trying to get Stiles to move. They were free to go but Stiles wasn’t moving, he just stared at nothing. Stiles looked over his shoulder at the teacher who stepped closer to the boys. It was brief, Stiles almost didn’t catch it, but the teacher’s eyes flickered. It was black with no white parts being seen. The nausea got worse as Stiles clutched the door frame, but whatever it was they needed to run. 

“Isaac we need to run,” Stiles voice was quiet as he fought back the bizarre feeling in the pit of his stomach. Isaac was ready to argue with Stiles, “Run!” 

A growl came behind them, and Stiles took off into a run. He couldn’t see Isaac, but before he could call out to Isaac he was whizzing past him. Isaac’s long legs came into use as he bounded down the hall and around the corner. Stiles flung his backpack off his shoulders trying to get faster. The teacher noises were low in his chest with a high pitch current like a tea kettle going off. Stiles feet thudded rapidly, but he never ran, he felt like Isaac was far ahead of him as he desperately tried to catch up. 

Something whizzed by Stiles’s ear, passing him Stiles could clearly see it was a ball of fire. The teacher wasn’t aiming at him, he was trying to stop Isaac. The fireball missed, but there was another one catching Stiles sleeve burning it up, frantically he patted it down. Isaac ducked into one of the classrooms, pulling Stiles in and shutting the door. 

It gave them a moment to breathe as they braced themselves underneath the door. Stiles was a panting mess, his eyes wide glancing up at the window waiting for the teacher’s head to pop through. Isaac pressed his hands into his temples other than that he was fine, he looked better than Stiles. If it wasn’t for Isaac’s chest rising and falling, Stiles wouldn’t have known. It dawned on Stiles, the teacher wasn’t human. No human can throw fireballs or make that noise, that wasn’t a humanly noise. Stiles was trying to not have a blown out panic attack as he clasped his hand over his mouth. 

_ Breathe, you can get through this. Just think of- what the hell was that thing? It wasn’t natural, no one can. I’m going to die. No I’ll just do something, I just need to think. _ Stiles thoughts were rampant as he tried to get control over his emotions. The nausea he had thought he was experiencing was his gut instincts. They kicked in and saved them, momentarily, from getting killed by the teacher. 

“What the hell is that  _ thing _ ?!” Stiles cried. Isaac pressed his hand over Stiles mouth looking at him warily as the footsteps drew closer. “Maybe I can find a spell or-or,” Stiles was trying to think of something to use.

“We need to get away from the door,” Isaac told him instead, keeping low to the ground, crawling towards the teacher’s desk. The creature stopped in front of their door, and the door swung open. They forgot to lock the damn door. It lifted the desk exposing them behind the thick wooden panels. It’s skin was blanched out with thin scales along its face, it shimmered and shifted as it exerted its power. It hauled the desk to the side with little to no force. 

Stiles clutched the cell phone tightly against his chest, frozen with fear. In a blink of an eye, the creature held an orb of fire. It looked like the sun that rotated on an unseen axis, parts of it exploding to create new flames. The fire didn’t phase the creature as it held the orb like it was a baseball. The creature’s eyes eyes blinked, a thin layer of skin coating over the emptiness, it’s eyes training on Isaac once more. Isaac had lunged for the student desks pulling them at the things legs making it stumble and collapse. The fire dissipating into thin air as it reached out to grab onto something. 

“Let’s go!” Isaac was pulling Stiles up and leading him out the door. Isaac was holding onto Stiles as they bounded down the halls once more. They were going back the way they came from with the monster hot on their trail. They weren’t going to make it, the two were going to die in school. Stiles sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him as they ran down a hallway that led towards the boiler room. The doors were all for maintenance with key cards for the workers to get in and out with ease. The two of them yanked at the doors. Isaac tried kicking at the door, they were trying anything as the creature appeared at the end of the short hallway. 

They had no place to go. The fireball glowed at the other end as the creature flung it at their heads. Stiles wanted to shut his eyes, he didn’t want to see the thing about to kill him. If he could focus on anything else like his dad, it was better. But he was frozen with the fire coming at him. It stopped mid flight, floating, before it was thrown back at the creature. It hit the creature, the clothes caught fire igniting the thing entirely. It let out a horrific wail, as it combusted in mere moments scattering into dust. 

“Wha-” Stiles stammered looking at Isaac. He was rubbing his brow, squeezing his eyes shut, slumping down. 

Stiles caught his head from scraping along the door. His breathing was heavy, like Isaac hadn’t taken a breath. “I think I did that,” Isaac muttered looking over at Stiles. 

“What do you mean? You threw it back at him?” Stiles had to look back over at the end of the hall, just in case the creature came back. Isaac nodded sitting upright, his breathing was labored but the tension was releasing from his brow line. 

“Yeah, It’s just like that day at the library. What the hell is going on, Stiles?” Isaac demanded. 


	8. Chapter 8

Right after the creature went up in flames, they didn’t dare leave Scott alone. They gathered Scott up, but had been too shaken to say anything. Scott had decided to go to the diner. It was safer to be in public, and neither Isaac or Stiles wanted to be alone. It was why they were all crowded into a tiny booth of a diner. Scott insisted on them ordering some soothing tea to ease their stress. Isaac clutched his hands tightly around the hot cup. He wasn’t thirsty but the heat warmed his cold fingertips. Isaac’s hood was up around his face as he pressed further into the corner of the booth glancing out the window every so often. 

Stiles was more eager to drink something, burning the inside of his mouth distracted him long enough to calm himself down. But everytime he tried to explain it was rushed like his tongue was falling behind. Scott couldn’t keep up and decided to let them linger in silence. He was left in the dark, and the palpable tension drew his shoulders up towards his ears. Finally, the boys recounted was had happened. Isaac was able to explain it all although every time he explained he didn’t know what he saw. He knew, but what made sense in the world wasn’t what happened. The whole ordeal rocked them to the core, and Scott believed it. He wanted to say it was nothing, but they were shaken. He couldn’t ignore that. His arm was wrapped around Stiles’s shoulder while the other gingerly clasped Isaac’s wrist. Somehow, the two managed to calm down to start rationally talking about it.

“What do you think that thing was?” Scott questioned. It wasn’t simple, they knew who it was supposed to be, but what it was left them baffled. 

“I guess it’s some sort of lizard thing. He had scales all over his face and I think he hissed at us,” Stiles tried to think back to what the thing looked like, it looked dead inside. Not one ounce of life could be found in those soulless eyes. 

“Why did it come after you guys?” Scott was trying to make sense of it all, squeezing Stiles tighter. 

“I didn’t have a chance to ask,” Isaac bit out, finally taking a sip of his drink. 

“Don’t be an ass,” Stiles muttered, “I don’t know but I think it had to do with us being witches.” 

“You see! This is the stuff I was talking about,” Scott rubbed his temples trying to find the inner strength not to lash out, “What are we going to do?”

Stiles shifted forward, “Let’s learn about this and actually do something about it. We’re witches! Isaac saved us by throwing the fireball back at the guy. We’re powerful and we can stop these guys easily.” It sounded better on paper. 

Isaac hated to admit it, but Stiles had a point. If they are going to have lizard things coming after them, he need to know how to protect himself. Isaac wasn’t ready to die. “Okay hotshot, how do we learn?” Isaac quirked a brow. At first, Stiles couldn’t believe his ears. For the past two weeks they were against touching anything that had to do with being witches. Stiles fished out some books he had stored away laying it out on the table for them to see. 

“Okay so these are good for learning how to do certain rituals, this is like herbology because witches like herbs. Then this-” He pointed at the cardstock booklet, “-pertains to our prophecies.” 

It was a lot to take in as Isaac looked at the book in a new light. The books  were suddenly everything they needed to fight against whatever that thing was. Stiles was relaying all the information they needed. It was a crash course on what he was working with for a few weeks now. It wasn’t complete, but it was something. Scott still hung back, but he listened. That much he was able to do for them. His eyes dropped down to his lap, eyes flickering to the booth across the diner. 

“I thought I saw you guys here!” Allison beamed as she leaned over the booth from the other section. Her hands clasped across the cool metal beam. Scott’s head shot up. 

“Hey Allison. What are you doing here?” Scott asked a smitten smile erupted. Allison swung around the booth sitting down next to Isaac. Her body was elated with a new found jitters.

It was one thing at lunch, Isaac was able to get away. He didn’t have to deal with the puppy-love, but he was pressed into the corner of the diner. The tiny jukebox and Stiles’s hands were the only thing he could see. Isaac wanted to gag, he got a whiff of Allison’s perfume. It was overpowering like she had bathed in it right before showing up to their table. Scott didn’t seem to mind. She could’ve bathed in pigs blood and Scott would have been head over heels. 

“Oh I was grabbing a bite to eat with Lydia and Jackson,” She motioned to a few rows back where the couple sat. The two were poised, obviously annoyed that Allison was talking to them. Stiles had nearly shot out of his seat craning his head up to get a better look over Isaac. At the rate they were going, Stiles would be a blubbering mess. Isaac was thankful he didn’t have an interest in anyone. He couldn’t deal with those feelings, but he knew he would be better than Scott and Stiles. The two fiend like a man without water. 

The conversation quickly devolved from imminent danger to the fruitful passion of young love. Isaac wanted out of the table. His hands itched to throw Allison out of her seat so he can get out. It would’ve been fun to watch her flail her arms around and eventually falling on her ass. She would peer up at Isaac with tears brimming in her eyes, darting out of the diner. The only problem would be Scott rushing to her aid. He didn’t want to push them further together. 

“Why are you here?” Isaac bit out motioning to their table. 

“Because I wanted to say hi to Scott? Are you guys busy?” Allison stared pointedly. 

“Actually, yeah we are. It’s a private talk, boy things. Can you get lost?” Isaac was practically fuming, lifting his head to match her stare. Allison rolled her eyes as she scooted out of the booth. 

“I’ll talk to you later, Scott,” Allison’s voice was soft, “We’re still on for our study date tomorrow?” 

Scott nodded, his eyes big like two big saucers. Isaac rolled his eyes, of course they would have a study date. Isaac didn’t realize he ground his teeth together, watching Scott as he watched Allison. The waves of emotion crashed over Scott, he looked back at Isaac. The only thing he could look at. If Isaac saw a bit of hurt behind Scott’s chocolate eyes, he wouldn’t admit it hurt him. There was a palpable silence. It broke once Stiles slurped his tea glancing between the two other boys. 

“Don’t look at me, I’m just sipping my tea,” Stiles motioned the two boys to continue. What they were supposed to do, no one knew. Maybe it was the swirl of emotions that neither could decipher. Isaac didn’t want someone storming in when they were having serious conversations. 

“So this witchcraft stuff,” Isaac grunted.

“Oh yeah! So you guys should meet Deaton and he could fill you guys in,” Stiles nodded his head agreeing with himself, “I plan on meeting him today. You guys should tag along.” 

Isaac’s brows furrowed casting a glance at the clock that hung over the coffee maker. It was getting late, and he needed to get home before his dad lost it. Yet he nodded his head. He wasn’t ready to deal with everything on his own. It was better to know what they were up against. 

\---------

 

All three of the piled out Stiles’s car with Stiles leading the charge. He followed down the familiar street path that was hidden under the brick awning. It looked suspicious, but the chain linked fence right on the other side of the brick wall helped. There was plastic white table and chairs laid out. It had a purple plastic table cloth pinned down with mini statuettes. Isaac didn’t need a degree to realize that it was associated with the store. Stiles led them into the store, it was thick with sage smoke. Isaac had heard of using sage to ward off evil. It was the go-to in every spiritual pop culture media, but a few people truly believed in it. Other than the thick smoke, it was empty. 

Stiles told them to look around before rushing down one of the aisles and into the backroom. Isaac had seen a lot of these things before. Most of it was through people claiming they were wiccans, or sported it for aesthetics purposes. People always wanted to be ahead of the trend, and some thought wiccan was the way in. Isaac grabbed a rock, from one of the rock collections. It was supposed to give serenity, it was a real looking rock, cold to the touch. 

“Why did you have to be a dick to Allison?” Scott wondered siding up to Isaac. Isaac grabbed another rock trying to busy himself. 

“I wasn’t a dick. She was just barged into our talk. We couldn’t talk with her around,” Isaac explained. The next stone was a baby pink. It was also smooth, glistening with sparkles beneath the layers of rocks. It was for Love. Isaac didn’t get what the rocks were supposed to do, or was it their names. 

“That’s not true. She wasn’t going to do anything. She just wanted to see me,” Scott’s smile radiated, dampening Isaac’s mood. He scowled shoving the rocks back. He didn’t want to be calm or have love in his hand. Isaac knew she wanted to see Scott, she didn’t give a shit about Stiles or Isaac. A good girl would care about all three of them, that’s how it worked. Allison was manipulative, all girls were. 

“Of course she did,” Isaac scowled stalking off to the next aisle. 

Stiles appeared through the curtains motioning them to join him in the back room. Isaac followed, quick on his feet to get ahead of Scott. Isaac settled in the familiar plush couch. Not before taking a glance at Deaton. It was the man of the hour, but Isaac had expected him thick blue robes with a huge hat. Also expected him to be a lot taller and older. He looked like he was thirty and besides the comfortable clothes. He didn’t scream witchy. He looked like a man who would hang out in Starbucks and practice yoga in the park. 

There were candles placed around a circular coffee table. They were unlit and unscented, but they had been thoroughly used. Clumps of dried wax had melted into the cylindrical sides. Stiles had been the first to explain why they were there. His hands flew around making the attack more epic than it had been. Then again, who was he to say anything? He was just running for his life a few hours ago. Isaac was expecting Deaton to be mildly shocked, but he stayed completely calm. Apparently, it was a common occurance if Deaton didn’t react. 

When Stiles finished their epic tale, Deaton eyes roamed around the room, searching for something. Isaac’s leg shook, whatever Deaton was thinking about he needed to fill them in. Despite Isaac best efforts to believe, he felt ridiculous that he was going to a random man for all the answers. Deaton eye twitched just slightly as he got comfortable in his seat, “You probably encountered a  **_LizXl_ ** they are nasty things. They are lower ranked demons but still deadly.” Deaton explained, “I’m glad you guys were able to get away safely.”

Isaac didn’t need to hear the sentiment to know he was lucky. He could practically slap lucky on his forehead right now. “I figured this would have happened,” Deaton spoke to himself, quietly reprimanding himself. The three boys shared concerned looks. Isaac wasn’t a fan of it being a possibility that it happened. If he had known that this was a thing he had to deal with. He would’ve been following the tin foil hat circus, at least he would’ve been more prepared. 

“What do you mean this was supposed to happen?” Scott nibbled on his bottom lip.

“I mean when you invoke the call of the witches, and get your powers. Magic is like a lightbulb, you hold the power and ability to switch it on. When you invoke the call you plug in the lamp and flip on the switch through a conduit. That being the local Nemeton. Anything that is mildly interested in your magic will come and try to take your powers or kill you. Normally, that has no effect on most creatures, but you are all a special case. You’re the Charmed Ones. Your light isn’t a lightbulb it’s a lighthouse.” Deaton’s explanation brought chills down their bodies. 

There was an ever present scowl on Scott’s face. He slumped into the couch barely looking at Stiles instead focusing on the rough carpet. Isaac couldn’t blame him because if it wasn’t for Stiles persistence they wouldn’t have called every evil being out there to come after them. “What is the Nemeton? I don’t get this at all,” Scott sighed finally speaking up. 

“A Nemeta was these trees that gave us and others powers. They were naturally neutral, and emitted a power that anyone could use if you have magic running through your veins. For witches our magic comes from our coven and ourselves, but it circulates through the nemeton. It’s what gives us strength if we’re nearby it.” Deaton’s explanation held weight. Isaac was having a hard time trying to keep up with all of it, but what he gathered there was a mystical tree somewhere that kept broadcasting their powers. 

“So we chop down this tree and call it a day,” Isaac declared clasping his hands together. Deaton wasn’t scowl was set in a firm line, rubbing his jaw. 

“How do we turn it off?” Stiles asked Deaton while glaring at Isaac. 

“It should be dormant. That demon should be the only one you have to deal with,” Deaton concluded. 

\---------

Stiles had dropped the boys off after a long evening spent them coming to terms with what was happening. Stiles was more understandable, he had realized what they were earlier on. Scott was the one who was still on the fence, but he slowly was coming around. It took a few bits of prodding to make sure he didn’t run off but they managed. Stiles was enjoying the scenic route back home. It was the only time he was able to enjoy the dusk before it plunged itself into freezing cold temperatures. 

He was a good drive, Stiles swore up and down he was. It was because he had been doing it since he was child. His dad always put him behind the wheel. However, he realized in time a guy stumbling into the middle of the road. Stiles stomped on the brakes screeching the car to a stop. He wasn’t sure if he saw it right. Was that actually a guy who ran in front of him by the forest reservation? Stiles blinked and sure enough the guy was running further into the woods. 

Any sane person wouldn’t chase after a man running into the woods, but that’s what Stiles was doing. He took off into a furious sprint chasing after the guy. “Hey wait up!” Stiles shouted after him, trying to get the guys attention, “Why are you running?” Stiles had lost sight of the guy through the brushes. He was fast. Stiles painted keeling over trying to regain his breath. The bench didn’t prepare him for the epic sprint for a deranged man. Stiles coughed as he stood back up, “Hey! I’m not going to hurt you! I just want to make su-” Stiles couldn’t finish his sentence before being yanked behind a tree.

The rough bark scraped Stiles’s arm, but that didn’t matter when a hand clasped over his mouth. It was the guy, he was a foot taller than Stiles. He was staring him down pressing him up against the tree. Of course, this was how he was going to die. By being nice, and now a maniac has his hand over his mouth. The man looked back and forth frantically peering over the tree. He dropped his hand from Stiles mouth giving him a moment to breathe. 

“Why are you running?” Stiles demanded. The man glared at Stiles urging him to shut up. As if a mean look ever stopped him from trying to get answers. 

It was quick, like a whistling noise that cut through the air. It was an arrow as it pinned the man to the tree. His arm was oozing blood, it was a lot slower than he thought. Stiles didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he could ask ‘are you okay?’ because clearly an arrow through your arm is definitely not okay. The man hissed kicking the dirt beneath their feet. Whatever was out to get the guy was making themselves known. Stiles could actually hear them move throughout the forest, eager to move in on him. 

The man looked pale as he slumped against the tree. Stiles eyes widened as another arrow whizzed past this time just missing Stiles arm. There was more footsteps emerging from the bushes. There were a lot of them and they were slowly surrounding him and the guy. Stiles’s couldn’t see a thing, the canopy covered the moon and left him relying on their footsteps. One of them whistled taunting them, they were aroused by their fear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 9 is still in the works. But feel free to tell me what you think. I am still going through and editing when I'm not writing. So if something looks weird, trust me I will fix it! 
> 
> It took me a long time to build up the courage to post my work. So I really hope you guys like it. <3


	9. Chapter 9

Heavy boots clodded towards them, it sounded like dozens closing in. They were spaced out, how far Stiles couldn’t tell. The man was impaled and used the tree to brace himself, careful not to dislodge the arrow. If only Isaac was with him at least his headaches could do some good. The iron scent from the man’s blood stung Stiles' nose. He was pinned between the man and the tree. Bile rose up in his throat, he could feel the shirt sticking to his skin. “Pull it out,” The man growled digging his fingers into the bark in an attempt to steady himself. 

Stiles swallowed his bile focusing on the empty trees around them. This is what prey felt like. Every slight sound was a game of what made it. The shroud of darkness created figures Stiles was unsure was actually there. Black masses darker than the background black. This was the horror that spooked little kids. Something unseen that lurked around them. The sinister thoughts that raced through a person mind of what their killer thought back. Would anyone save them? If they shined a light on the monster would they disappear? Stiles curiosity was killing the cat big time. 

Stiles clutched the arrow’s shaft between the tree and the man’s torso. With feeble tries, it only seemed to jostle it further within the man’s body. He could feel the arrow bumping against the tendons and muscle. Each tug had the man hissing, as the arrow created a bigger hole. “No! Get out from behind and pull, damnit!” 

What Stiles wanted to do was run for his life. He could possibly sprint past the bushes and follow his way back to his Jeep. Yet, he was already in this mess, and the man was nearly in their clutches. There was no point in leaving him behind. Plus, if they wanted the man dead, how far did Stiles really believe he was going to get? Carefully, Stiles slinked around the man and took ahold of the fletching. “Hang on,” Stiles whispered. He yanked back the soles of his shoes sliding under the soft dirt. It managed to snap the exposed back of the arrow causing to leave the shaft still inside the man’s arm. “Shit, I can try again!” Stiles said. His fingers continued to slip around the blood coating the nub of the shaft still exposed. 

If Stiles didn’t see it for his own two eyes, he wouldn’t have believed the man pushed himself off the remaining arrow. He fell to the floor with a heavy thud. The arrow’s shaft was coated in blood, dripping the excess onto the roots of the tree. Sluggishly the man staggered to his feet, mustering up any energy he had left. Stiles could barely make out much of the man’s face, but he could tell he was in bad shape. His breathing was ragged, short heavy breaths like when a kid finishes running a mile. It baffled Stiles that the man could manage this much. Stiles would’ve been still pinned to the tree, passed out, or on the floor passed out. Either way, Stiles would’ve been a dead man. 

“We need to go,” The man said. Stiles nodded and pulled the man’s arm around his shoulder. 

“I have my car,” He said quietly. Whatever was lurking out in the woods stopped. It was deathly silent. Stiles heartbeat was the loudest thing in the woods. They were listening. 

They walked in a fever pace, but Stiles could feel them. Energy sprouting off their bodies onto Stiles. It could only be described by the feeling of someone watching you, or standing right behind you. All the while, oblivious besides the instinctual cue that someone was near. A heavy breath came from the bushes. It was the first person he could make out in the darkness. They were hidden behind the bush. They were crouched down low, but black didn’t blend with black. It’s how Stiles could see it from the corner of his eye. 

No matter what was closeby Stiles wasn’t stopping. A gazelle knows when a lion is near, and a lion knows when a gazelle is within their grasp. It was suffocating as each waited for the other to make a move. The gazelle unsure if they would make it out alive, but they had to try. Stiles knew he had to try. 

The two emerged from the woods not far from Stiles’ Jeep. The lights were still on, eager to speed down the windy roads. Stiles managed to buckle the man up in the passenger seat. Stiles was quick to press on the gas. It was disturbing that none of the things out there approached them. They just let them leave. Stiles’s constantly checked his rearview mirror. Every second that he didn’t see anyone behind them had Stiles sitting more upright. 

After being on the same road for a mile, Stiles couldn’t take it anymore, he veered off the road. The car protested but took to the open land with finesse. The open land cut the time between the town and the winding road behind them. When Stiles could see the streetlights, he was able to let out a tiny breath. They weren’t safe, yet, but being surrounded by strangers was a start. 

Out of the corner of Stiles' eye, he watched the man’s head droop to one side. He was alive, but he looked in bad shape. It was hard to see but the gentle rise of the man’s chest gave Stiles hope. Stiles was so frantic that he ended up going down his street. “Shit!” He shouted rubbing his forehead.

“Where are we?” The man asked groggily, managing to lift his head up to peer at the suburban houses. 

“On my street. I wasn’t thinking, I was going to take you to the hospital,” Stiles said already pulling the car around. 

“No hospital, I just need a minute,” He grunted. 

Stiles sputtered over his words. Unsure what to do, the car lingered down his barely lit street. Against his better judgment, Stiles swung the car into his driveway, managing to get the guy into his house. 

The house was empty, his dad was working an overnight shift. Stiles flicked on lights as he pulled the man into the bathroom. The lights illuminated the man’s horrible state. His hair was matted down around his forehead. There was blood around his neck that dropped into his bloody shirt. The worst was the covered wound. The edge of his wound peeked out. Everything was a sickening red. 

The man slowly parted his lips, it looked painful for him to even talk. Stiles knew he should’ve gone to the hospital. “Do you have alcohol for it?” the guy asked, his eyes slowly drooping. Stiles yanked open the medicine cabinet grabbing the barely used container.  

The man pulled his shirt over his head. It was a wet plop as it dropped to the floor. The gash was gnarly. The edges of the man’s skin were sliced with parts of his raw skin oozed the blood. It trickled out coming to a stop soon, but Stiles could probably make out the muscles. Stiles haphazardly pressed the alcohol soaked gauze against the man’s skin. The man hollered, stomping the floor in protest. He snatched the gauze out of Stiles’s hand. 

“Hold on I’ll get a bandage for it. I’ll be right back,” Stiles darted out of the bathroom towards the First Aid Kit his dad had stashed under the kitchen sink. Every unknown sound brought chills down his spine. 

Stiles rushed back into the bathroom where the man was scooping up his shirt. “I got the- what are you doing!?” Stiles said dropping the bandages all over the floor. The man stood upright with color returning to his face. Even the fatigue seemed to vanish off his dark brown eyes. Stiles glanced at the wound, but it was barely there. It was the size of a quarter and progressively getting smaller. Did Stiles dream about the wound? 

“I’m fine,” He said, “Thank you for this.”

“I’m sorry but call me a wackadoo but how are you okay?” Stiles gathered up the bandages. He wanted to probe at his shoulder there was no way anyone was able to recover that fast. It felt like it was something out of the Terminator movies. The man didn’t like people watching him. The inquisitive eyes were the same eyes that watched freaks show off their gruesome talents.  

Suddenly, with the world opening up to the supernatural world Stiles felt vulnerable. The demon was the first hostile creature. If Stiles could avoid another he would try his damn hardest. The man demeanor was filled with anger. It was in his eyes as he checked out his surroundings. Stiles glanced at the open door behind him. The blood drained from his face pooling into his feet. “Are you...Are you a demon?” 

“I’m not a demon,” He gruffed out, “I’m a werewolf.” 

Now, if someone told Stiles that werewolves were real, he would humor them but he knew they weren’t real. These were the creatures people told around the campfire, or through Twilight fanfiction. Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised if Santa was real at this point. Stiles backed out of the door until he was behind the archway. “Oh yeah, that makes perfect sense… Are you going to kill me?” 

Stiles must have had seven heads by the way the man looked upon him. As if it wasn’t a viable question. The guy was a supernatural beast, or he was pulling his leg. The jury was still out on that one but considering his wound had healed with a layer of pink flesh, he had a reason to believe him. “Do you think I should kill you?” The man asked.

“No, but I mean if you are that’s cool too. Just give a guy a heads up, it’s the polite thing to do,” Stiles said wringing his hands together. 

“I’m not going to kill you. What’s your name, kid?” 

“Oh good, that’s a good thing. It’s Stiles.” Stiles still didn’t dare to walk into the bathroom but he felt better knowing he wasn’t going to die. Unless everything was a lie, but Stiles was a bull. The silence drifted through the air, stagnant and stifling. It was the loudest thing in Stiles' ears.  At least a name would’ve been nice. Instead of the man casually trying to wash the blood out of his shirt. “What’s your name?”

“Derek.” He stated. That was a lot better at least he could get somewhere with that. The shirt wasn’t going to get any cleaner. The blood had ruined it, and all he was doing was getting out the excess blood. Any blood that was dried up had embedded itself into the fibers. Derek wrung out the shirt draining it of the water. “I should head out, thanks again, kid.” 

“Whoa whoa whoa….Whoa!” Stiles exclaimed blocking the doorway. “You can’t go out there! There’s people and things out there, trying to kill you!” 

“I can handle myself,” Derek grunted trying to move past Stiles.

“And the arrow in your arm was just you playing games with them?” 

“Actually, you were the reason I got hurt. If you weren’t out there I would’ve been long gone. Now move!”

Stiles wouldn’t budge, wrapping his arms around the archway trying to make himself a more opposing force. Derek was a domineering foot taller than Stiles. His arms were both of Stiles’s put together. Derek hissed pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saved your life! Now I’m going to save it again, you’re not leaving! What if they are waiting for you outside? Or they come for me! I don’t want to die and you’re the only thing that’s going to stop them. I mean where are you even going to stay? In the woods? I got the couch or a bed. You’re still healing and I got food. You have to be hungry! I’m not moving until you say you’re going to stay.” Stiles was a blabbering mess trying to keep him from going outside. 

Everything that lurked in the darkness was terrified, Stiles. It was far from the magical journey he envisioned. Instead, death and the unknown plagued his every turn for the past few days. Derek tried to push past Stiles, but he was putting up a good front. The safety of a home outweighed the fear. 

Now that was out of the way he was able to focus on feeding the wolfman. “I don’t have much, a lot of leftovers and Eggo’s, you want that? I can probably call in some pizza they work late here, or Chinese?” Stiles offered while sifting through the fridge. It was mostly frozen and leftovers from the night before. Stacks of boxes that should’ve been thrown away a long time ago. Instead, they stood on the shelf for the perusing pleasure. 

“I’ll take the waffles,” Derek settled into the wooden chair. He was bent over resting his arms on his thighs. Even sitting he was a menacing figure. 

However, he was far from anything out of the ordinary. Derek looked like an average male, with the body of a god but Stiles wouldn’t mention that. Derek’s muscles were big and toned. It was coupled with nice abs. The type that would be on a Hollister bag. Along his jaw was black scruff trimmed down.  

The toaster rang pulling him from his stupor. Stiles laid the frozen waffles out for Derek, Derek devoured the food before it hit the plate. He went through one in a blink of Stiles' eye. Stiles tried to peek at Derek’s teeth. He wondered if werewolves naturally had fangs. There was nothing unique about it. Actually, besides the amount of hair on his body Derek had nothing that stood out as wolf-ish. If Stiles didn’t see his wound miraculously heal before his very eyes, he wouldn’t have believed him. 

“You’re staring,” Derek pointed out taking another bite from his waffle. 

“Why were those people chasing you?” Stiles asked shifting in his seat, “Did they want me dead too?”

Derek huffed shaking his head in disdain. He tried chewing and washing down the food but Stiles stared at him. He wasn’t going to give it up. He wanted an answer, and he wanted one now. “Why do you think?” 

“Uh because you did something they didn’t like?” Stiles shrugged his shoulders. Stiles kept looking past Derek with only dark chest pulling him back in. Derek’s eyes bored through Stiles, picking him apart bit by bit. He wasn’t sure if it was his answer or inability to keep his eyes off of the man’s buff chest. 

“Far from it,” Derek said as he rubbed his jaw. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me. I almost died from them.”

Derek glared at Stiles, but he wasn’t about to back down. He had to get some answer. It didn’t matter if he asked twenty questions, but one had to stick. “They’re hunters. They kill for sport and an honor code for anything they deem dangerous.” 

“What makes you dangerous?” Stiles probed.

“Who said I was dangerous?” Derek bit out, “They want me dead because it’s fun to them.” 

Stiles gave him a knowing look, “The whole point of werewolves that they are vicious wolves. Maybe they think you’re dangerous.” 

Derek’s eyes squinted as he leaned forward. Claws snaked out of his fingernails clutching the edge of the table. Stiles slinked back in his seat glancing at the knives that were grouped up in the wooden holder. It was only a brief moment that seemed to last a lifetime, but as Derek recoiled back Stiles breathed a sigh of relief.  _ Note to self, don’t piss off the werewolf. _

“I need to get going, thanks for the help.” Derek placed the plate in the sink. 

“I- listen I’m sorry, but going out there could mean death! You need to stay.”

“I will be fine. Next time don’t go into the woods. It’s not safe.” With that, Derek walked out of Stiles house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy my work! I think I will start posting more of my random stuff just because I'm feeling really brave. But please if any part of my work needs help, I would love critiques. Just know it's AU based so I'm keeping their colloquialisms similar but not exact. 
> 
> Posting will be sporadic depending on how quick I can type it out, but hopefully every few weeks. Thanks again guys <3 it means the world to me that you even took a second to check it out!


	10. Chapter 10

If Isaac stared long enough at the ceiling he could pick out dips and subtle cracks. This house wasn’t perfect. The scuff marks on his wall was a clear indication. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was a new place to live until...yeah. He had thought about the kids in his old school. The majority of them were laid back. It was a city school, which meant a lot of them commuted. It created a looser network of students as they figured their way in the world. Their backgrounds were so diverse that everyone had something new to add to the community. Also, anonymity was easier in his last school. No one cared he had more bruises along his arm, and if they did, they didn’t say. The teachers semi-cared but they were overworked with little pay. That left them stressed and victims to the students cruelty. Yet, they always say, they were trained hawks. 

Isaac yearned for the day to be taken away from his dad. Yet, each opportunity was squandered by Isaac as he tucked tail and ran with his dad. After running with his dad for so long he was the only reason he was abused. There was no other explanation in his mind. If a person consistently shoots up drugs they know it will eventually kill them. They obviously deserved it. Isaac was like them. He endured the abuse that he knew would kill him one day, but he never left. Maybe a night, or a few if he was in the hospital, but he always came back to his dad. 

In the end, it didn’t matter if students, teachers, social workers tried to come to his aid. Isaac wouldn’t leave and would willingly lie through his teeth to stay with his dad. When he was younger his dad had to twist his arm to stop him from telling the truth. Now he was good even if his father loomed over his care. Isaac twisted on his bed to face the alarm clock. The digital red numbers countlessly ticking away, and will forever if the thing didn’t get busted. 

Isaac phone lit up with Scott’s name. Today was his study date with Allison. He didn’t want to hear about the nervous jitters or a play-by-play that was Stiles job. In fact, he wasn’t sure what was his job. He didn’t want to hear about their wonderful life but he sucked trying to console someone. One time this girl was hysterically crying because her boyfriend broke up with her, and somehow he was on comfort duty. He didn’t know her name, barely saw her around, and didn’t know her boyfriend, but apparently, he was perfect for the job. The phone died down and went to voicemail. 

It was barely a second later before his phone started up again. It was still Scott. Why? Why couldn’t he focus on his girl, and leave him alone? He was having a good time staring...at… nothing?

Isaac picked up his phone, “What do you want?”

“So I messed up majorly. I need you to come over right now, please!” Scott said. His voice was rapid. 

“Why? I don’t want to see you two have your first fight. Can’t you call Stiles or something?” 

“No, no, no, no. I can’t he’ll just make it worse. Please! I’ll- I’ll throw in twenty bucks, I’ll give you dinner, I don’t care just come over now!” 

The tremor in Scott’s voice washed cold water over Isaac. “No...Yeah, okay. I’ll be there soon. Text me your address.” 

Isaac was quickly pulling on his hoodie and dirty shoes. It was the heavy footsteps below that stopped him. He couldn’t hear everything but, the damn steps told him enough. Isaac hoped that his dad wouldn’t check on him. Isaac sneaked towards the top of the stairs. His dad was behind him in the kitchen rummaging around the fridge. 

Carefully Isaac tipped toed down the stairs each step softer than the next trying not to let the stairs rat him out. Isaac watched and listened clutching the banister for dear life. His dad rummaging stopped with a knock into the door. The footsteps receded towards the bathroom door with a thud. 

Isaac bolted out the front door towards Scott’s house. When he made it, it looked like nothing was out of the ordinary. The living room lights were on, and that homey feeling extruded out onto the front lawn. It was the empty feeling that he hated the most. It coiled within the pit of his belly freezing his heart over. Before he could reach the door Scott swung it open, yanking Isaac inside. 

To anyone else, the house seemed normal. The walls were white with a tint of yellow that used the light to brighten the room further. The Tv was pressed against the center off the wall with rich dark mahogany TV case laid beneath the tv. The couch was a soft lush brown with different throw blankets draped over the back of the seat. Allison was sitting on the floor looking at her notebook. Everything looked perfect, frozen in time

That was it, everything was frozen. It looked like nothing had touched this idyllic moment. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve tried everything!” Scott wailed his fingers fisted into his black hair. Scott got in front of Allison waving his hands in her face but she did nothing. 

“You froze her?” Isaac covered his mouth trying not to snicker. “How long has she been like this?” 

“I don’t know how! I just did and she’s been like this for 25 minutes! I can’t seem to stop it.”

“Have you tried shaking her?” 

“Yes, and praying it away, I’ve tried spells, waiting it out. Nothing is working!” 

“I don’t think praying the freeze away will work. Have you tried...a pungent smell?” Isaac was proud of Scott for trying everything he could think of. Even if it was unorthodox, but it was better than him sitting on his ass waiting for Mama Isaac to fix it all. Which he doubted he could. Scotts eyes gleamed rushing into the kitchen. What he brought back was an onion. “You’re kidding right?”

“It would make her cry.” Scott started to peel the layers, piling them together on the coffee table. Isaac stood behind the couch watching Scott’s trial and error. He would peel a layer and stick it under Allison’s nose. It was a process until Isaac could feel the burn. 

“I’m crying! It’s not working, stop peeling the damn onion.” 

“It has layers. Give it a chance.”

“I don’t give a damn, my eyes hurt. Fucking...Go take your onions, Shrek.” Isaac motioned back towards the kitchen. He rubbed his sleeve over his eyes trying to stop the burn. “Ah fuck, this hurts.” Isaac blindly follows Scott into the kitchen to wash out his eyes. “Now what?”

“I don’t know you tell me! I’m all out of ideas!” Scott peeked out of the corner to the frozen Allison. She started to look like a wax figurine, too perfect to be real. Of course, that’s her problem. She was too perfect to be real, maybe if she packed on some weight. 

“You haven’t tried calling Stiles,” Isaac pointed out. 

“He would make it worse. Stiles would make jokes and then come up with stupid ideas and before I know it she would become a statue forever.”

“You think I have better ideas?”

“I’m banking on it.” 

How would they unfreeze her? Isaac stared at her hoping for some kind of epiphany. The whole thing was ridiculous. These powers were beyond fickled, and Scott had the worst of the three. At least Isaac can blame his telekinesis on ghosts. Scott was literally taking time from a person's life they will never get back.

The analog clock on the cable box was stuck at 6:47 PM. Scott’s been dealing with this at least for a half an hour. 

“Okay,” Isaac said, “Maybe your powers are connected to your emotions. What were you thinking before she froze?”

“Uhh… I don’t remember?”

Isaac huffed taking ahold of Scott’s arm dragging him towards the living room. Every part of the living room was used, “Okay go sit where you were.” Scott scrunched up his brows as he took a hesitant step around the coffee table settling into the tight space between the coffee table and the couch. 

“Now what?” 

“What were you feeling? Thinking?” 

“Well, I-” Scott started to recite what he was doing, “Well I was writing down my notes and I got a whiff of her perfume. I liked it, and I glance at her. She’s just pretty, so I wished that this moment would never end. Then my pen fell out of my hand and she froze.”

“You wished for her to be frozen?” Isaac groaned at how simple Scott was. Out of everything that wouldn’t end it had to be a platonic study-date. Next, he would hope he could have the best sleep of his life and end up in a coma. “Wish for her to be unfrozen.” 

Scott looked over at her and imagined her to be unfrozen, wished for it, and even started to pray for it. Nothing seemed to work. The sinking despair was settling deep inside his gut, coiling tightly over his heart. Scott helplessly looked to Isaac. He wished that Isaac could magically fix it all, but all the power was in his hands. 

“Nothing is working,” Scott said with his head downcast. His eyes captured a new essence of forlorn that rattled Isaac. 

If the world could gobble Isaac up and spit out a more empathic version, maybe he could shake Scott out of it. All he can do is try new things and bite hard on his bottom lip. He shuffled behind the couch, draping over the back of the couch. “Suck it up. Something will work,” Isaac rubbed at his jaw, “Okay, close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just fucking do it!” Isaac said. Scott glanced back at Isaac, shutting his eyes and turning back around.  “Picture that the clock in front of you is 6 PM, the sun is setting. The room is warm with the living room light is beating down between you and Allison. You can smell her perfume. She looks over at you from time to time.” Isaac was trying his best to set the mood for Scott. The whole thing felt ridiculous and a waste of time, but it was the next best thing. As he went on recounting how everything looked, smelled, and felt, Scott's shoulders began to loosen. Until they dropped. 

Isaac tried to get Scott to think about unfreezing her but Allison didn’t budge, again. Quietly Isaac's voice became nothing more than a whisper, “-You feel like you are sinking into the couch, her warmth spreading into your arm…”

“Then you unfreeze!” Isaac shoved Scott rattling him from his lucid sleep. Scott reached out to grab himself, but what he grabbed was control. The world went back into full motion. Nothing really changed, like Isaac expected, instead the world turned. Thirty minutes were taken from Allison’s life-ALLISON!

Isaac ducked behind the couch pressing up against the back of the couch. “What are you looking at?” Allison’s voice piped up. All Scott needed to do was get her out. Isaac saw the small set of stairs that led up to the second floor, it was his saving grace. The last thing he wanted was Allison catching him behind the couch, she didn’t know how long he was there. Isaac was a lot of things but stalker wasn’t one of them, possibly creepy but that’s it. Scott rambled on trying to divert her attention to him.

The two of them together was sickeningly sweet. Isaac could practically hear Allison’s amused-yet-flirty voice. She was probably touching Scott’s arm trying to calm his nerves. Which was frustrating to everyone else but her. No, she had to be the one who liked the nervous wreck of a virgin. It was destiny. Fuck, destiny.  

The two talked on and on, barely talking about the homework or her leaving. Meanwhile, Isaac was sitting behind the couch listening in. 

“I knew probably a few of their songs, but I wasn’t much of a fan. I was a complete, and total, teeny bopper growing up,” Allison said.

“I can show you a few of their stuff one day. It’s not really bad, but there are a few songs that are weird,” Scott said.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Uh well, it’s like they have this song about having sex with a dog. I thought it was funny, I guess,” Scott said. Did Isaac hear that right? Did Scott tell his crush about a song with a guy fucking a dog? Isaac could only imagine what he said before she froze up. 

Allison’s phone went off, a light jazzy beat that broke the bizarre conversation. Isaac couldn’t make out who it was on the other end but he assumed it was one of her parents. She told them that she was on her way home, and finally, Isaac could leave. 

“Thank you so much for having me, I had a lot of fun,” Allison said.

“Did you want to like do this again sometime?” 

“Yeah, I would like that a lot.” 

_ ACHOO! _

“What was that?” Allison asked peering over Scott’s shoulder. Isaac's shoulders skyrocketed upwards, frozen in place. 

“Oh, that? It was uh, uh… my alarm.” 

“Your alarm?”

“Yeah! Nothing gets your attention more than a real-life sneeze, especially when you are home alone,” Scott said. 

Scott had to work on his excuses, they were horrendous. There was a moment of silence that stretched on for like eons. To the point, Isaac was convinced Scott somehow froze her again. Finally, the door shut with a sweeping gust of air that helped Isaac sink into the floor. 

“She’s gone,” Scott spoke as he made his way around the couch. 

“A sneeze alarm?” Isaac asked. 

Scott quirked a smile as he spoke, “It worked.” Isaac rolled his eyes as he brushed the bits of dust that clung to his pants. 

“Barely.”

Scott shrugged his shoulders trying to gather up the textbooks scattered around the coffee table. He tucked different pieces of paper into some of the books and shoving the rest into his bookbag. “Can I record your sneeze?” 

“...What?” 

“In case she asks about the sneeze alarm.”

Isaac scrunched his face up going back to check his phone, pretending he didn’t hear Scott. Back in his old school, no one would ask to record a sneeze. Then again, neither of them would freeze their crushes and proceed to keep Isaac behind a couch for a good twenty minutes or more. Isaac smile broke through his facade, “You’re fucking weird.” Isaac chuckled. 

Scott grinned, “You like it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! Sorry it took so long. I've been going through a lot and I had some writer's block. Now that things are settling down I'm going to get back on my A-game. I'm also going to work on a new story alongside this one. Based off X-Men/The Gifted and I'm possibly doing a Multiverse. Would you guys read a story with different characters from different fandoms? I've been thinking I should just put it on Wattpad because I doubted anyone would read it, but I would love to know what you guys think!
> 
> Also I'll be starting to publish more of my other stories I have worked on! So stick around for that!


	11. Chapter 11

It had been days since the boys have encountered anything remotely terrifying. Honestly, it had been perfect for the three of them. Except for one glaring issue, their powers. It was a tug-o-war with trying to control their powers. The three of them spent every day after school trying to practice their powers, to the chagrin of Scott. But he didn’t say much because in the end he needed to stop freezing everything. 

“We’re not getting anywhere,” Isaac grumbled sitting down on a low, dug in rock. “Can’t Deaton tell us how to control it?” 

Stiles shook his head. Stiles forehead was becoming bright red from rubbing it. Stiles had tried different ways of getting his psychic powers to work. He had tried concentrating, focusing on what he wants to see, and reading tons of articles on honing in on his third eye. All it did was leave him with a constant headache. “He told me that we need to work on it by ourselves,” Stiles said. 

Isaac rolled his eyes kicking the dirt beneath his foot. “Guys we aren’t getting anywhere. We should just give it a rest for today. If Deaton wants us to work on it by ourselves, maybe we need to do it alone.” Scott said. 

Isaac pushed himself off the rock patting the back of his jeans, “That sounds good to me.” 

“But our powers work together,” Stiles stressed gathering his belongings. “I think we are missing something.”

“We’ve done everything from holding hands, you getting a headache. Unless we need to sing Kumbaya I’m going to head home,” Isaac grumbled. 

They started to follow the path back towards the school. It wasn’t a paved path, but the dirt was trampled on enough times to form one. Isaac’s fist kept clenching in time to Scott’s jaw tightening up. Stiles was able to walk with his head down, going over what they did. Something had to click for them, but it all felt impossible. 

A world of impossibilities meshed inside of the realm of possibilities. With the lid off on what was possible it made things harder for Stiles to grasp. Magic was an essence of power far beyond what touched normal people. It opened up another world that lived beneath their very eyes. 

“Do you see that?” Scott said pointing through the treeline. 

Scott had spotted a crowd of people. It was hard to make out from where they stood, but there were police lights. It looked like they were huddled in close. As the boys approached the scene, the whispers started to become clearer. The yellow tape stretched wide as cops tried to keep people from stepping too close. The cops had the place surrounded. It had been near an actual hiking trail that walked along the main drag. 

Beacon Hills had certain roads that for a mile long had nothing but trees surrounding it. They were perfect for drag racers and reckless teenagers. The roads became so bad that the mayor squashed any work to be done to add sidewalks. Instead they made the hike trails that ran adjacent to the road for people. It was completely secluded with no street lamps nearby. 

Scott peeked at a few of the people on the opposite side of the tape. They were horrified, hands clasped over their mouth. No one dared to look anywhere else except for what was inside the tape. 

_It was another one._

This time it had been a woman, at least, that’s what they assumed because she had no head. It had been ripped off. There were thick gash lines along the edge of her neck exposing the tendons inside. She had been laying in a pool of her own blood. The ground and leaves were wet clinging onto her cold body. Both of her ankles were broken, one laid flat against her shin while the other looked like it was pushed up into her leg. She didn’t look remotely human at this point, she was just a mess of limbs all dressed up in a skirt and blouse. 

Stiles looked through the crowd, he knew his dad had to be on the case. If the sheriff wasn’t there it would be pandamonia. Near the line of cop cars, Stiles could see his dad. He was directing different deputies. It was all proceedure at this point. One of which was to get people away from the crime scene. Stiles knew it wasn’t going to happen. The murders had been escalating and the sleepy town of Beacon Hills wasn’t ready for it. They wanted to know everything, and so did Stiles. 

No one knew what to make of it. As Stiles took it all in he noticed a familiar face through the crowd. Derek stood behind a few men and women. He curled his nose in disgust, he could smell the decay. The last time Stiles saw Derek he was teetering on the edge of death and rage all makes under the nighttime sky. Now that it was day he looked different. 

He stood out from the crowd. The rugged man had thick black hair along his jaw that trailed downward. His strong brow line and cut cheekbones made him look animalistic. A walking wolf that looked like he would consume you. 

The two of them made eye contact. Derek’s lips twitched before turning on his heels trying to move through the crowd. “I’ll be right back,” Stiles told the two keeping his eyes on the moving wolf. 

“Where are you going?” Scott’s words fell on deaf ears as Stiles moved out of the crowd. Derek strides were long his thick legs were ready to run deep into the woods. Stiles raced after him putting himself in front of Derek’s way. 

“What are you doing here Stiles?”

“I should ask you the same question,” Stiles pointed out. “I thought you died-” Stiles couldn’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough with how quickly Derek was shutting him down.  

Derek jaw tightened as he ground his teeth together. He sidestepped around the teenager making his way towards all the parked cars. Why would a werewolf need a car when he could easily run everywhere? 

“Hey! I’m not done talking to you!” Stiles shouted after Derek. It was fruitless because Derek slid into his black Camaro and drove off leaving Stiles with a cloud of dust. He hated that he let Derek get away, again. The man didn’t want to talk, but it was the least he could do after Stiles saved his life. 

“Who was that?” Scott asked as Stiles made his way back over to the group. 

“It’s a long story.” Stiles bit down on his bottom lip gnawing at it as he stared at the empty car spot. People came through Beacon Hills all the time, Derek was just another passerby. He should be just another Jane or John, but a certain lycanthropy keeps is all he could think about.

“Do you want to talk about it?” They both knew Stiles would rant about the guy sooner or later. Scott didn’t need to ask, but Stiles always needed a reminder. It was the only way to keep Stiles from bottling it all up. 

“You will shit your pants when I tell you what happened.” The things that kept Stile’s mind wound up dissipated with a grin. Stiles clasped Scott’s shoulder shaking him until the boyish smile returned. It was short lived. The two spun around to face the real reason they were there. Someone had been brutally murdered. 

It would be another few hours until the forensic team would even want to move the body. The poor woman would have to be on display for the town to see. Just yesterday, she was alive having her last dinner, watching whatever tv show she was into. Not even realizing that it would all come crashing down in a matter of moments, ripped apart by something. Stiles couldn’t fathom what it could have been, but he had a likely guess, and it just drove off. 

Neither of them could stomach the sight any longer. The three of them were ready to turn back, and pretend it was all a horrible nightmare. Stiles turned his shoe getting caught on an exposed root of a tree. Stiles grabbed a hold onto the bark.

 

_The woman’s scream was deafening as she kept looking over her shoulder at the monster. What is it? It roared back at her pushing the trees aside. She ran harder, her feet ached as she ran with a slight limp. What’s chasing her? The uproot of the tree caught her shoe making her toppling to the ground. The beast loomed over her._

 

“Shit!” Stiles let go of the tree.

“What did you see?” Scott asked trying to steady Stiles from falling over. Stiles needed a second to catch up to his thoughts. It felt real to Stiles. He could feel the heat of the monster’s breath on the nape of his neck. Stiles was terrified what was lurking in the woods. There were so many places where the _thing_ could hide. The woman had to be running for a good mile or two, but the size of the beast was big enough to snatch her instantly. It was playing with her. The beast was enjoying her fear up until she fell. 

The sleepy town of Beacon Hills was considered a safe haven, and now it felt like another town that was riddled with crime. He didn’t know if the beast was the same one that was killing the other people. Each one was ripped apart, and left as garbage near or in the woods. The thing had to be intelligent, it went after people who were separated from the crowd. Stiles would’ve heard something by now if a beast was roaming their local parks. 

Stiles had somehow made it back to the school grounds where he had left his Jeep. The school parking lot was empty. Stiles climbed into the driver seat turning on the engine. He drove the boys back to their house, and made his way back towards his own. Stiles gnawed on his bottom lip, glancing at his cell phone. He didn’t know if Deaton would help, or was even around. The man was an enigma. He evaded nearly every question only giving Stiles just enough to keep him around. 

When he pulled up to his house, the lights were out. His father was still at the crime scene or back at the station. Stiles wanted to talk to his dad about the woman, he would know more. Maybe at least her name. She was becoming another nameless victim rather than somebody. Stiles clutched onto the steering wheel harder, resting his head on the wheel. 

If Stiles thought hard enough, maybe he was able to see the beast slightly. It was dark, but the moon cast some light on her murderer. It had fur, or did it? Stiles was sure the thing had claws, and it was powerful. Whatever it was, was larger than her by a lot. She didn’t look straight behind but rather up. If the thing was big, why hasn’t anyone spotted it before? Stiles had a sneaking suspicion that the beast was more intelligent than he had thought. 

Stiles couldn’t help himself as he dialed Deaton’s number. It rang twice before the familiar voice came through the speaker. 

“Good Evening Stiles, what can I do for you?” Deaton didn’t skip a beat. 

“A lady… She died and- and I think it’s some kind of beast. But I’m not sure. I had a vision of her running through the woods and it was chasing her, but I couldn’t see what it was. What can I do?” Stiles kept his head against the wheel staring at his thighs. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Stiles.”

“Then what’s the point of my damn vision if I can’t do anything about it?”

“Not everything can be prevented. Your visions guide you, and helps you learn. Some things are out of your control. If your vision didn’t want you to see the beast then it wasn’t meant for you to know about,” Deaton explanation left Stiles more confused than before. 

“That makes no sense.” 

Deaton sighed over the phone, “Stiles, don’t go and try to stop something you don’t understand. If you don’t know what it is, you leave it be. Things happen in due time. Have you been practicing on controlling your powers?” 

Damn Deaton and his need to evade the situation. Stiles grumbled out some reply and quickly got off the phone with him. Deaton was no help, and he never is. There was no doubt in Stiles mind that Deaton had drank the Kool-Aid one too many times and now believed he could speak like a vague monk. 

****

 

The next day at school, the woman was all anyone could talk about. No one was able to pay attention as Mr.Brown tried to refocus the class. Eventually the teacher stopped and tried to talk to the students about it. Stiles looked over at Isaac just in time to make eye contact with him. They stared at each other, letting the silence speak volumes. Stiles parted his lips only to be interrupted by a girl. She had her hand raised eager to ask about the details of the murder. Stiles pulled out his phone quickly texting Isaac.

 

Do you think it’s going to be like this all day?

I don’t know. Probably.

Has your dad said anything?

He hasn’t been home all night.

Do you know anything?

I just know that Deaton wants us to stay out of it. 

I call BS

What are you going to do?

You mean _we_

No you.

WE’RE going to figure out how to stop this thing

-_- WE don’t know how to do shit.

Plus it’s not OUR problem

We’re all powerful witches and you’re telling me

It’s not our problem?

Yeah

This is our job

-_-

Your attitude shows even in texts

So?

So stop being a grouch and let’s do something

  


Isaac stared at Stiles for a moment, he tossed his phone into his knapsack. The teacher was trying their hardest to be vague towards the students. By the look on everyone’s face they were all eager to know _more._ Isaac groaned burying his head into his arms. The last thing Isaac wanted to do was to face down another creature. He was all for protecting himself, but the thing annhilated the woman. She looked like she had went through a woodchipper. It left a sour taste in his mouth. 

The same thing followed in Isaac’s next class, the class after that one, and the next. No one was able to get any work done. There was nothing he could do to distance himself from the conversation. By the time lunch rolled around everyone was tired and on edge. The tension rippled off the student body like waves. 

“Do you think its weird that we may be the only ones who might know more than everyone else?” Scott thought out loud as he sat down.

“When did we know more than anyone else?” Isaac wagered. 

“It has to be some sort of demon, right? It can’t be an animal attack like they’ve been saying.”

“Is that what they are saying?” Isaac scoffed toying with his food. 

“Have you not been listening?” Scott shook his head as he took a bite out of his sandwich, “Yeah they think a coyote or a cougar, something attacked her.” 

“Maybe it was one?” Isaac shrugged his shoulders, “That could’ve been what Stiles saw.”

“There’s no way a coyote could’ve been taller than her,” Stiles interjected. 

“So? What? Now we’re going to hunt this thing down?” Isaac asked. 

Stiles and Scott replied contradicting one another. Scott didn’t want to hunt the creature down, but he was more than willing to contribute to the gossip. Since earlier that morning, Stiles was ready to get out into the woods and figure out what had been attacking people of Beacon Hills. 

“I’m on Scott’s side, no.” Isaac bit out, “It’s suicide.”

“We can actually make a difference and save lives. If this is a coyote then we can leave it up to the cops, but if it’s not… are we going to let more people die?”

“Yeah,” Isaac nodded his head. He thought it was obvious that their duty was to stay out of it. Isaac didn’t want to be a part of the Mystery Gang. He barely wanted any part of a friendship that this witch thing had invoked in all of them. Yet here he was, and he was going to deal with it the best way possible. 

“You’re ridiculous. Scott?” Stiles turned to his best friend. 

“Well I mean… No. We shouldn’t let more people die but what are we going to do? We don’t know anything about it other than it kills people.”

“Are you guys forgetting that we’re witches. We’re powerful, and we can easily take this thing down.” Stiles exclaimed, “I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it.” 

“Let’s see Einstein. Scott farts and he freezes, you get magical visions and I get magical headaches that fling things around. The most powerful thing about us is that we have the ability to say no to this. No.” Isaac stated.

“What if more innocent people die?” Stiles asked.

“What’s new? People die all the time.” 

“C’mon now, that’s a little much dontcha think?” Scott frowned. 

Isaac didn’t bother to reply as he dug into his food. Everyone had to be righteous about saving random people from death. It’s like they believe death is something that can be stopped, but they could only prolong the inevitable. That’s how it was for his mom. A slow painful death that stretched for a few months before she finally gave up. Isaac remembered how much he wished she was dead, at least her pain would stop. Stiles and Scott were naive thinking they can take on the world. There was no way Isaac was putting his life on the line for this town. 

 

\--------

 

“Isaac hurry up!” Stiles shouted. 

It absolutely sucked that Isaac was roped into tracking this beast down. He could have been working on homework, or pretending to have a life. There might have been a time when Isaac was younger that he would’ve loved exploring. A place like Beacon Hills had many spots left to uncover, and it would have sent little Isaac in a tizzy. It was all about the adventure.

But just like every other wide-eyed childhood wonder Isaac became another cynical adult. The woods were just trees and plants. Pretty soon all of it would become streets and towns. The wildlife would be replaced with preoccupied people living their life unaware of what lived there before them. Isaac could see it clearly how people will abuse the land and manipulate it into their twisted vision of utopia. But once it’s all gone all that will be left is a memory of how good it was. 

Isaac walked over the wildflower as he caught up to Stiles and Scott. The plan was to start at the scene of the crime. Stiles believed it would be the best place to try to conjure up some vision. From there, they were supposed to become bloodhounds and find the beast. After that… Isaac wasn’t told. It was going to end in their death, that’s what Isaac saw coming. 

“Remind me again, why are we doing this at night?” Isaac grumbled.

“Because my vision was at night, the thing might come out at night. Plus my dad won’t have people guarding the area at night,” Stiles ventured forward putting more distance between him and Isaac. 

They reached the scene of the crime in record time. The body and blood were long gone, and all that was left was the yellow tape around the area. The woman’s body was stuffed into the ice locker inside the morgue until someone could claim her body. Stiles’s asked when someone would, but no one wants to admit their loved one died that way. So she’ll sit there for a few more weeks until they cremate her. 

“This is weird,” Scott said as he ran his fingers along the tape. He walked along the perimeter of the tape. With only the faint sun setting behind them everything was silent. Stiles started to touch everything he could get his hands on. His fingers dug into the dirt. “I take it back, you’re looking weirder.” Scott commented. 

“Well this is the only way I’m going to get anything. I have to touch.” 

Isaac found a comfortable spot beneath a tree as he watched Stiles worked.The boy was running his fingers over everything delicately. Stiles shut his eyes a few times, letting the energy pour into him in hopes to trigger another vision. The blood had long been washed away with autumn rain, but Stiles still dug his fingers into the soiled dirt. 

This was a one-man show, which left Isaac wasting precious minutes of his time out in the wilderness. He managed to catch a glimpse at Scott just as he tousled his hair out of his eyes. It had gotten longer, the thick dark waves curled around his ears. The tiny strands licked his face. Isaac grunted as he stared at his lap. 

The dirt was soft to the touch but as it started to turn over into winter, it would become brittle to the touch. Isaac looked up, and caught Scott kicking over a stone. At least the trees were fairly interesting to look at. The bright reds and oranges only accentuated the growing rarity of the green that summer gave the town. Scott decided to sit down near a tree. Isaac huffed out a exasperated breath. His finger scratched at the light stubble that ran along the underbelly of his chin. 

“I’m not getting anything,” Stiles complained as he smacked his hands against his jeans. 

“I’m not surprised,” Isaac said as he checked the time. “Can we head back now?” Stiles dug his heels into his dirt. His head swung around searching for answers that just wasn’t there. Finally after a few minutes, he gave a futile nod of his head. 

A ferocious roar drew the boys attention, the woods were empty. The treeline wasn’t thick and gave them a clear visual but they couldn’t see anything. Each one of the boys looked at one another when the next roar tore through the air. The beast sounded like he was close, and it had to be closing in. 

“Let’s go,” Isaac said barely moving a muscle. He watched the boys started to slowly inch their way backwards. They didn’t get a warning this time as bright blue eyes and a heavy footed wolf started to charge at them. 

Isaac quickly sprinted in the opposite direction. The heavy run shook the ground. The beast was bigger than they expected, but they knew for a fact it was a wolf. The only problem was, no wolf was _that_ big. The thick dark brown fur was spiked up. Isaac didn’t dare to look back but he can imagine its teeth were sharp incisors ready to break apart their body like it was a soft banana. 

“Are you happy now?!” Isaac shouted at Stiles. 

“Shut up and run!” Scott replied picking up the pace. He managed to lead the charge. They had no idea where they were going at this point. The car was far behind them, and the reserve stretched on for miles. Isaac was already exhausted, he didn’t take the time to exercise. His lungs screamed at him to breathe, but the adrenaline kept his legs in motion. 

“Let me try something!” Stiles said. Isaac’s eyes went wide as Stiles made a hard left. He stopped running, the idiot stopped running. The wolf slowed down too, easy prey was on its menu. 

Stiles started to speak softly trying to keep his composure. His eyes were shut tightly, as he kept repeating the incantation. It wasn’t working as the beast snarled and knocked him down to the ground. Scott rushed towards the two of them. They were going to attack the big wolf, when it could kill them in a second. Isaac couldn’t move, he tried to take a step forward, but his feet were glued to the ground. 

The wolf’s ears perked up turning its head in time to catch Scott charging at him. “Stop!” He shouted holding his fingers up, and just like that the world stopped once more. The wind didn’t blow, the wolf didn’t move, and the fight was over. At least for the moment. All Isaac could see was the wolf’s hind legs that dug deep into the soft ground. Right in between was Stiles’ legs. They didn’t move, and the familiar feeling coiled around Isaac’s heart.


End file.
